M^ 


IIIPMIIfH 


LEISURE  HOUR  SERIES 


WHO  BREAKS-PAYS 


BY 


MRS^C.JENKIN 


Henry  HoLT&Co.  Publisher 
New^York 


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V 


I 


v 


I 


I 

I 


/^ 


LEISURE    HOUR    SERIES 


"  Chi  rompe-paga ' 


"Who  Breaks- Pays" 


(ITALIAN    PROVERB) 


BY 

MRS.    C.    JENKIN 

AUTHOR     OP      "SKIRMISHING,"      "A     PSTCHB      OP     TO-DAT,' 
"  MADAME    DE    BEAUPRE,"     ETC. 


NEW    YORK 

HOLT    &    WILLIAMS 

1873 


•s 


FR    . 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I.    Alone 7 

—  II.    Beginnings 13 

—  III.     Consequences  of  Beginnings 22 

—  IV.     Incipit  Vita  Nova 26 

—  V.  Plan  of  Attack  on  the  Hormit  of  the  Rue  de  Berlin...     36 

—  VI.    Different  Impressions il 

—  VII.    Gioberti 46 

—  Vni.     "  The  Arrow  and  the  Song." 50 

—  IX.    Uncommon  Domestic  Scenes 66 

—  X.    The  Moth 61 

—  XI.    If  you  Doubt— Abstain 66 

—  XII.    Hard  Lessons * 75 

—  XIII.     Under  Strange  Circumstances 82 

—  XIV.     Clouds 87 

—  XV.     Man  Propo.ses 99 

—  XVI.     Woman  Disposes 101 

.  XVII.    Yes  or  No 110 

—  XVIII.     A  true  Lover 113 

—  XIX.     All  or  Nothing 117 

XX.    Femme  qui  6coute 122 

—  XXI.    Passionate  Heart 129 

XXII.     Grandmamma 136 

—  XXIII.     Drifting  Away 143 

—  XXIV.     Fetters  of  Intimacy 147 

—  XXV.    Soir6o  Townsend 169 

1*  V 


f~^r%  ^ni 


VI 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

—  XXVII. 

—  XXVIII. 

—  XXIX. 

—  XXX. 
-  XXXI. 

—  XXXII. 

—  XXXIII. 

—  XXXIV. 

—  XXXV. 

—  XXXVI. 

—  XXXVII. 

—  XXXVIII. 

—  XXXIX. 

—  XL. 

—  XLI. 

—  XLII. 

—  XLIII. 

—  XLIV. 

—  XLV. 

—  XLVI. 

—  XLVII. 

—  XLVIII. 

—  XLIX. 
i>  L. 


CONTENTS. 

Schahabaham 158 

S«eing  is  Believing 166 

The  Little  Man  and  his  Little  Speech 171 

Champs  Elysees 175 

What  Happened  during  Forty-eight  Hours 178 

Forever — Never 185 

The  Sacred  Hour  of  Fottr 191 

Country  Neighbours 198 

Coming  Events  cast  their  Shadows  before 209 

Merry  England 212 

False  Appearances 217 

Cross  Purposes 223 

Lill  Breaks 229 

Adieu 235 

A  Question  of  Buying  and  Selling 237 

Fencing 241 

Airy,  Fairy  Lilian 245 

The  End  of  the  Beginning 250 

The  Beginning  of  the  End 257 

A  Peep  into  Bluebeard's  Closet 263 

Love  in  Hate 270 

La  Superba _ 276 

Master  and  Pupil 283 

Pazienza 290 

Who  Breaks— Pays 298 


WHO   BREAKS— PAYS 


CHAPTER    I. 

Alone. 

Up  five  flights  of  stairs,  to  the  attic  of  a  house  in  the 
Rue  de  Berlin,  Paris,  that  is  where  I  am  going  to  lake 
the  reader,  on  an  evening  in  the  beginning  of  November, 
184-.  On  the  square  hmding-place  there  are  four  doors, 
each  with  a  card,  on  which  is  either  written  or  printed 
the  name  of  the  dweller  within.  Let  us  examine  the 
card  on  the  door  to  the  left  as  you  go  upstairs.  Mr. 
Giuliani,  that  is  the  name  of  the  person  we  are  in  search 
of — ring  and  enter. 

The  apartment  consists  of  two  rooms  and  a  closet, 
fitted  up  as  a  small  kitchen.  The  sitting-room  to  the 
front  looks  down  into  the  street — the  bed-room  would 
have  a  view  of  the  court-yard  of  the  house,  but  for  its 
dormer  window,  which  allows  only  of  a  sight  of  the  sky 
and  of  a  multitude  of  chimney-pots. 

In  the  small  salon  a  large  moderator  lamp  is  burning 
on  the  diminutive  marble  table  in  the  centre  of  the  room. 
There  is  no  fire  in  the  chimney,  though  logs  of  wood 
artistically  laid,  and  backed  by  a  noble  elevation  of  ashes, 
show  prudent  preparation  for  a  cold  evening.  A  black 
fur  rug.  bordered  by  red  cloth  cut  into  scollops,  lies 
before  the  fireless  grate;  a  divan  occupies  the  space  be- 
tween the  fire-place  and  window — a  useful  piece  of  furni- 
ture, serving  as  a  sofa,  a  chest  of  drawers,  and,  in  a 
moment  of  necessity,  even  as  a  bed.  A  well  filled  set 
of  book-shelves,  a  box  for  wood,  a  large  Voltaire  chair, 
half-a-dozen  small  walnut  ones,  and  you  have  the  list  of 
Mr.  Giuliani's  furniture.  A  large  map  of  Italy,  and  four 
or  five  pipes  and  meerschaums,  ornament  the  walls. 
There  is  not  one  object  of  luxury,  not  one  article  for 
mere  show  in  the  whole  room. 

Mr.  Giuliani  is  seated  at  the  table,  and  with   com. 

7 


8  WHO    BREAKS FAT9 

pressed  lips  and  knotted  brow  appears  to  be  deciphering 
Egyptian  hieroglyphics,  and  jotting  down  learned  anno- 
tations in  red  ink  with  a  firm,  crabbed,  scratching  pen. 
Occasionally  he  sends  forth  an  angry  volume  of  smoke 
from  the  short  pipe  between  his  lips.  The  writer  looks 
thirty,  at  the  least;  his  head  is  large,  his  hair  black,  with 
bronze  reflections;  it  is  abundant,  and  curls  closely  round 
the  nape  of  the  neck,  and  on  the  temples ;  the  rest  has 
that  waviness  which  saves  much  time  and  patience  in 
hair-dressing;  his  beard  is  fine,  glossy  and  curling,  his 
ears  small  and  white,  his  brow  high,  the  eyebrows  full 
and  marked,  his  nose  large,  not  j^eculiarly  well-shaped, 
but  manly  and  decided,  his  eyes  black,  large,  and  deep 
set.  His  figure  is  scarcely  in  proportion  to  so  powerful 
a  head  ;  it  is  thin,  about  the  medium  height,  with  a  stoop 
forward  of  the  shoulders,  which  may  be  the  effect  of 
either  constant  study  or  of  ill-health ;  but  the  hands  are 
well-shaped,  muscular  hands,  able  to  wield  something 
heavier  than  a  steel  pen:  for  the  present  his  feet  are  in 
black  drugget  slippers,  but  they  are  narrow,  with  a  high 
instep.  It  is  not  easy  to  mistake  whether  a  man  is  a 
gentleman  or  not,  you  discover  it  in  spite  of  the  thread- 
bare or  glossy  coat.  Mr.  Giuliani  is  a  poor  gentleman, 
one  of  the  numerous  body  of  Italian  exiles.  He  is  busy 
■with  no  cuneiform  characters,  with  no  hieroglyphics. 
He  is  an  Italian  teacher  in  Paris,  and  he  is  deciphering 
some  of  his  pupils'  carelessly  written  Italian  exercises. 

As  the  little  gilt  clock  on  the  mantelpiece  cliimes  nine, 
he  pushes  away  the  copybooks  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  leans 
back  in  his  chair  for  a  few  seconds,  idly  watching  the 
white  clouds  of  smoke  from  his  pipe  float  away  and 
thicken  the  already  thick  atmosphere  of  the  room.  Then 
he  rises,  opens  the  window,  and  sets  to  work  again,  but 
this  time  reading. 

By  the  way  of  relaxation  Giuliani  studies  Greek,  and 
is  resolved  to  master  that  language;  a  rough  task  at  his 
age;  but  it  is  now  his  sole  ambition.  After  a  youth  of 
enthusiasm,  during  which  he  had  frei'ly  hazarded  life  and 
fortune  in  the  cau.se  of  liberty,  lie  appeared  to  have 
grown  philosophically  indifl'erent  to  every  shade  of  poli- 
tics, every  form  of  government,  the  result  of  weariness 
at  meeting  always  the  same  fair  professions  of  goodwill, 


ALONE.  9 

and  finding  ever  the  same  cunning  evasions  of  sacred 
promises.  To  rid  himself  of  the  remembrance  of  past 
hopes,  lie  had  taken  to  burying-  his  wits  in  Greek  roots, 
as  another  man  miglit  have  drowned  his  in  spirits  or  malt. 
His  calmness  was,  however,  not  the  fruit  of  resignation, 
it  was  the  enforced  passiveness  of  iron  necessity. 

A  true  Anglo-Saxon  ring  at  the  door  bell,  a  ring  which 
says  plainly,  "  immediate  attention,  for  time  is  precious," 
startled  the  student  to  his  feet.  Nervous  French  ladies, 
when  similar  peals  for  admittance  precipitate  them  from 
their  chairs,  never  fail  to  exclaim,  "  Voild  pour  s&r  des 
Anglais." 

Mr.  Giuliani's  visitor  was  a  fair,  slim  young  English- 
man. 

"Ah!  Valentine,  how  goes  the  world  with  you?" 

The  Italian's  voice  was  strong  and  musical,  and  his 
smile  made  him  agreeable-looking,  if  not  quite  handsome. 

"What,  not  dressed!"  exclaimed  Valentine  Ponsonby. 

"Not  dressed,"  affirmed  Giuliani.  "What  business 
have  I  at  a  ball?  I  cannot  dance,  nor  sing,  nor  perform 
any  tricks  to  pay  for  ray  admittance  among  fine  ladies 
and  gentlemen." 

"  I  could  imagine  a  pedagogue  talking  in  this  style, 
but  for  a  man  of  real  rank—" 

"  Be  kind  enough,  my  good  Valentine,  to  leave  my 
nobility  where  it  is  safest  —  in  the  dust ;  and  for  Heaven's 
sake  never  spread  it  forth  for  the  curious  inspection  of 
my  pupils'  parents,  otherwise  yoia  will  take  the  bread 
out  of  my  mouth.  At  present  the  excellent  souls  look 
on  me  as  of  a  course  clay  conscious  of  its  inferiority, 
and  therefore  fitted  to  teach  their  porcelain  daughters. 
With  M'hat  success  I  do  so,  these  papers  could  prove," 
stirring  the  copybooks  with  the  stem  of  his  pipe.  "Per 
dii>!  one  of  the  prettiest  of  my  scholars,  persists  in  wri- 
ting Favoriscava,"  and  Giuliani  laughed  the  abrupt 
laugh  of  one  who  lives  much  alone,  without  any  of  that 
continuity  which  sympathy  imparts  to  laughter. 

Valentine,  who  was  not  sufficiently  versed  in  Italian 
to  be  much  tickled  by  the  blunder,  here  laid  a  tiny  note 
before  Giuliani,  saying, — 

"She  gave  it  to  me,  in  case  you  should  stand  out  foi 
the  dignity  of  a  written  invitation." 


10  WHO   BREAKS — PAYS. 

Giuliani  examined  the  writing  of  the  direction  and 
exclaimed — 

"  That  blessed  English  writing,  there  is  no  telling  one 
hand  from  another !"  He  next  investigated  the  seal, 
holding  it  close  to  the  light.  "  Now,  easy  as  it  may 
seem,"  he  continued,  "  I  would  wager  ten  to  one,  no 
Italian  woman  could  make  a  seal  like  this  ;  so  round,  so 
small,  so  neat.  How  every  trifle  about  this  scrap  of 
paper  reveals  the  refinement  of  your  country,  Valentine. 
Its  perfume  of  violets  almost  overpowers  my  tobacco." 

'•  You  will  end  by  being  an  Anglo-raane,  instead  of 
the  Anglo-phobe,  you  now  are,"  said  the  young  English- 
man. 

"  No,  never ;  you  English  are  a  great  people,  the 
Romans  of  the  present  day,  a  race  of  giants,  if  you  will ; 
but  disagreeable  for  strangers  to  dwell  among.  I  admire, 
even  wonder  at  your  royal  Thames — the  rendezvous  of 
the  world — but  1  prefer  to  hang  up  my  harp  in  the  trees 
liordcring  the  Seine." 

Valentine  Ponsonby's  eyes  wandered  to  the  clock  on 
the  mantelpiece  ;  the  hands  already  marked  the  hall-hour 
after  nine. 

"  You  then  decidedly  refuse  to  accompany  me  ?"  he 
asked. 

"  Decidedly !" 

"Write  an  apology,  then — it  is  the  least  you  can  do; 
it  is  not  for  everybody  beautiful  Miss  Tufton  will  write 
an  invitation." 

"  If  she  be  all  I  infer  from  your  admiration,  I  should 
fear  to  see  her,  philosopher  though  I  am." 

With  the  unreflecting  vehemence  of  youth,  Valentine 
replied, — 

"You  may  well  be  afraid.  She  is  creating  quite  a 
furore  in  ]*aris  ;  it  is  the  fashion  to  be  in  love  with  her." 

"Indeed  !  then  I  need  have  no  more  fears.  Nothing 
more  odious  to  me.  than  a  woman  whom  it  is  the  fashion 
to  adore.  In  what  otiier  terms  could  you  describe  one 
of  the  celebrities  of  the  dcmi-mimdcT' 

Valentine's  honest  face  showed  his  displeasure. 

"  1  would  not  feel  as  bitterly  and  severely  as  you  do, 
cv(Mi  to  be  you,  witli  your  talents  and  your  brave  ante- 
cedents " 


ALONE.  11 

Giuliani  smiled  grimly. 

"I  may  speak  of,  and  judge  my  fashionable  fellow 
creatures  hardly ;  but  1  call  God  to  witness  I  wish  then) 
well,  and  do  them  no  ill." 

"  Why  not  treat  them  well  ?  Why  repulse  the  kindness 
they  offer  you,  and  that  merely  because  you  have  taken 
such  a  prejudice  against  the  rich,  and  believ-e  as  my 
sister  Alicia  does,  that  the  poor  and  the  illiterate  have 
a  monopoly  of  the  virtues  ?" 

"  The  wise  of  all  ages  have  protested  against  the  rich, 
friend  Valentine ;  however,  I  assure  you  that  my  wish 
for  obscurity  arises  jjrincipally  from  self-love.  I  feel 
myself  to  be  sadly  deficient  in  those  things  which  are 
necessary  to  acquire  the  good-will  of  men  and  women  in 
general.  Deficient  in  fortune,  station,  and  good  looks, 
what  wonder  if  I  wish  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  offend- 
ing, or  being  offended.  You  have  all  the  requisites  for 
pleasing,  my  good  fellow;  so  now  go  and  enjoy  your 
evening.     Adieu." 

The  defeated  ambassador  departed,  and  Giuliani  set- 
tled himself  anew  to  his  Greek,  or  tried  to  do  so ;  but 
the  scent  of  the  violets  would  not  let  him  forget  the  dis- 
cussion  ;  and  once  more,  and  as  if  it  were  against  his 
W'ill,  he  took  up  the  note,  and  examined,  with  the  atten- 
tion of  an  exi)ert,  the  paper,  the  writing,  and  the  seal. 
Giuliani,  when  he  had  pushed  aside  the  exercises  of  his 
pupils,  had  tasted  the  pleasure  of  anticipation.  The  task 
had  been  wearisome,  but  it  had  left  his  mind,  as  it  were, 
braced  for  the  enjoyment  of  a  favourite  pursuit.  The 
discussion  with  Valentine  had,  on  the  contrary,  disturbed 
his  composure,  put  his  mind  into  another  frame  than  that 
which  could  sympathize  with  the  woes  of  Antigone  or 
Iphigenia.  A  load  of  ennui  oppressed  him;  the  solitude 
he  had  just  praised,  and  preferred,  overpowered  him. 
More  than  once  lately  he  had  been  assailed  by  a  disgust 
of  his  position  ;  of  being  condemned  to  silence,  isolation, 
and  inactivity,  at  the  age  most  fitted  for  action  and  en- 
thusiasm. More  than  once  lately  he  had  been  taken 
unawares  by  an  ardent  thirst  for  freedom  from  this  im- 
mobility— freedom,  even  through  a  catastrophe.  The 
books  were  thrust  aside,  and  Giuliani  went  out,  desirous 
of  being  jostled  by  a  crowd,  that  would  send  him  back 


12  WHO    BREAKS PATS. 

contented  to  his  attic.  Out  he  went  into  one  of  the 
great  thoronghfares  leadiuo:  from  the  Chauss6e  d'Antin 
to  one  of  the  Barriferes.  There  Giuliani  stopped,  and 
without  accounting  to  himself  as  to  why  he  did  so,  ex- 
amined this  poor  locality. 

Opposite  to  him.  a  highly  coloured  sign,  which  showed 
hira  a  beflounced  female,  holding  a  now-born  babe ;  at 
his  right  hand  a  tavern,  all  the  faces  round  the  buffet  as 
lurid  red  as  the  smoky  light  from  the  oil  lamp,  and  shining 
like  the  copper  vessels  hanging  round.  A  yard  or  two 
farther  on,  a  flower-shop,  exhibiting  principally  funeral 
wreaths,  woven  of  yellow  inimortclles,  bordered  and 
studded  with  black.  Heart-rending  decorations  on 
them,  denoting  the  rupture  of  every  tie  that  can  exist 
between  man  and  man.  A  ma  mere,  A  monjils,  A  mon 
mart.  The  neighbouring  dealer  was  a  revendeiise,  or 
retailer  of  cast-off  clothes ;  through  the  open  door,  dis- 
tinguishable by  the  flickering  light,  was  seen  a  counter, 
on  which  lay  the  tawdry  sjilendours  of  much-soiled  ball 
dresses.  As  Giuliani  walked  by,  the  mistress  of  the 
tomb  flowers  (a  misshapen  mass  of  female  clay)  was 
bidding  good-night  to  the  proprietress  of  the  cast-off 
finery. 

He  strolled  away  to  the  Boulevards — to  that  division 
of  them  which  lies  between  the  Rue  de  la  Chauss6e 
d'Antin,  and  the  Rue  Richelieu;  gaiety  and  splendour 
enough  there,  but  under  the  one  and  the  oilier  he  espied 
the  funeral  wreaths  and  the  cast-off  finery  of  the  Bar. 
ri^re. 

He  went  back  to  his  attic  contented  with  his  solitude. 


BEGINNIXaS.  13 


CHAPTER  II. 

Beginniugg. 

TiiK  next  day,  as  Giuliani  was  on  his  road  to  give  a 
lesson  in  the  Kue  de  Courcelles,  he  met  Colonel  Cale- 
don.  Despite  a  broad  diftereuce  in  their  respective 
ages,  the  Englishman  and  the  Italian  had  been  fellow- 
soldiers  ;  and  whenever  the  colonel  saw  Giuliani,  a 
pressing  invitation  to  dinner  was  an  inevitable  conse- 
quence. The  attraction  these  two  men  had  the  one  for 
the  other  arose  from  their  acquaintance  dating  from  so 
many  years  back  ;  otherwise,  with  their  strong  national 
prejudices,  they  might  have  walked  in  parallel  lines  for 
^ver  without  finding  or  making  one  point  of  contact. 
As  it  was,  Giuliani  contemplated  with  benevolence  in 
Colonel  Caledon  the  peculiarities  must  disagreeable  to 
him  in  other  English,  viz.,  his  faith  in  England's  uni- 
versal superiority,  his  unconcealed  contempt  for  every 
one  born  out  of  the  pale  of  the  British  dominions,  his 
belief  that  morality  was  unknown  beyond  the  channel, 
and  that  it  took  two  Frenchmen  or  three  Italians  to  be 
a  match  for  one  free-born  Briton. 

Colonel  Caledon,  on  his  side,  freely  acknowledged 
that  though  Italians  were  "  a  set  of  scamps,"  his  friend 
Giuliani  was  a  "  man,"  and  deserving  of  a  better  fate 
than  to  have  been  born  one  of  the  Pope's  subjects. 
"  When  I  have  seen  a  fellow,  before  he  had  hair  on  his 
chin,  fight  as  I  saw  Giulio  Giuliani  fight  by  his  poor 
father's  side,  in  Portugal,"  would  the  colonel  say,  "1  am 
bound  to  stand  up  for  his  character,  Italian  or  no  Italian. 
He  is  a  man — that  I'll  say  for  him."  In  fact,  when  two 
men,  whose  principles  of  actiou  are  the  same,  are  forced 
into  companionship,  whatever  the  differences  of  nation- 
alities, friendship  is  sure  to  follow. 

Courage  stood  as  high  with  the  colonel's  delicate  wife, 
as  with  the  brave  old  soldier  himself.  Mrs  Caledon, 
however,  had  attracted  her  rough,  burly  husband  by  all 
that  is  most  feminine  in  woman  carried  to  excess.  Giu- 
liani, and,  indeed,  most  people,  liked  Mrs.  Caledon,  she 
being  a  person  emmently  charitable  \  :>  the  self-love  of 

2 


14  WHO   BRKAKS-  -PArS, 

others  ;  listening  with  an  appearance  of  interest  to  every 
pitiless  egotist,  her  large  eyes  filling  easily  with  tears 
of  sympathy,  when  most  others  would  have  civilly  sup- 
pressed a  yawn  of  ennui. 

"  Women,"  says  Mdlle.  Necker,  "  fill  up  the  intervals 
of  conversation  and  of  life,  like  those  down  coverlids 
placed  in  packing-cases  full  of  china ;  these  duiits 
count  for  nothing,  yet  without  them  everything  would 
be  broken." 

Mrs.  Caledon's  mission  in  life  was  to  be  a  duvit,  and 
to  keep  sharp  angles  from  meeting. 

In  compliance  with  his  old  comrade's  cordial  invita- 
tion, Giuliani,  at  seven  in  the  evening,  was  in  the  Cale- 
dons'  drawing-room,  in  the  Rue  de  Berri. 

A  peculiarly  juvenile  old  gentleman,  accompanied  by 
an  elderly  lady,  were  the  next  arrivals. 

"  Sir  Mark,"  said  the  hostess,  "  allow  me  to  introduce 
vou  to  one  of  Colonel  Caledon's  oldest  friends.  Sir 
Mark  Tul'ton— Mr.  Giuliani." 

Impossible  not  to  remark,  and,  having  remarked,  not 
to  meditate  on.  Sir  Mark  Tufton's  youthful  figure,  in 
contrast  to  a  face  as  lined  as  those  of  Michel-Angelo's 
Fates.  lie  looked  as  though  some  draught  he  had 
taken  of  the  elixir  of  youth  had  only  been  strong  enough 
to  act  on  his  body — the  contrary  to  what  happened  to 
the  man  in  the  Spanish  story,  whose  head  alone  lived. 

The  baronet's  face  had  the  thinness  of  that  of  a  skele- 
ton ;  his  blue  eye  was  glazed,  at  times  almost  extinct. 

"Cruel  and  vain,"  tiiuught  Giuliani;  a  human  tiger." 

Other  guests  followed  in  quick  succession^ — among 
them  some  girls,  who,  seated  on  a  divan  as  far  I'rom 
their  elders  as  possible,  chirped  like  ncwly-fiedged  birds 
to  some  young  men  standing  before  them.  The  girls 
were  fair,  rosy  and  puzzlingly  similar  in  dress,  uiannera 
and  complexion. 

Tiie  young  men  all  had  a  little  turned-up  moustache, 
hair  parted  down  the  middle,  units  sent  forth  in  hundreds 
by  fashionable  tailors,  hatters  and  bootmakers :  the  re- 
8enil)lance  went  fiirtlier  tlian  dress;  their  faces  were 
without  any  individnaiity  of  exj)ression,  looking  as  if 
they  had  been  all  set  in  the  same  mould,  having  us  ;uucb 
mobility  as  if  they  had  been  made  of  wood. 


BEGINNINGS.  15 

They  talkod  fluently,  learnedly  and  sometimes  pedanti- 
cally. Heaven  help  the  one  who,  in  detiance  of  such 
wells  of  learning,  ventured  on  a  sharp  original  observa^ 
tion,  which,  being  original,  would  necessarily  be  out  of 
the  daily  beat  of  the  hearers — out  of  their  narrow, 
charmed  circle.  The  bold  adventurer  would  be  met  by 
a  chilling  silence,  or  put  down  by  an  authoritative  rebufl", 
either  check  serving  to  denounce  him  as  a  pert  idiot. 

As  Giuliani  listened  to  the  conversation  of  these 
examples  of  the  rising  generation,  of  whom  the  majority 
were  Parisians,  as  he  contemplated  their  wooden,  self- 
satisfied,  half-ennuyed  faces,  he  decided  that  Among 
them  the  search  would  be  vain  for  a  dreamy,  poetical 
Werther,  with  the  luxuriant  faults  and  virtues  of  youth  ; 
those  faults  which,  leaning  to  virtue's  side,  give  promise 
of  generous  ardour  for  a  good  cause,  whenever  the  hour 
of  action  may  arrive.  He  turned  away  with  a  sort  of 
longing  for  the  sight  of  one  who  belonged  to  another 
generation,  of  one  who  had  loved  and  fought  from  heroic 
sympathy,  for  the  sight  of  the  old  colonel's  manly  counte- 
nance, with  its  keen,  impatient,  grey  eyes,  and  broad 
humorous,  benevolent  mouth.  The  colonel  was  oscilla- 
ting rapidly  between  window  and  window  of  his  drawing- 
room,  while  into  his  wife's  face,  who  was  fluttering  after 
him,  a  look  of  anxiety  had  stolen,  which  deepened  almost 
into  fear  whenever  she  looked  towards  Sir  Mark  Tufton, 
whose  ghastly  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  door,  as  if  it  had  a 
spell  for  him.  The  conversation  at  the  ottoman  died 
into  whisperings,  interrupted  by  girlish  titterings. 

A  solemn  butler  had  twice  reconnoitered  the  party 
assembled ;  on  his  second  appearance  Mrs.  Caledon 
whispered  to  her  husband,  and  having  received  some 
advice,  the  hostess,  trying  to  smile,  went  to  the  young 
ladies.  To  some  request  there  came  an  eager  outburst 
of  assent. 

Passing  by  Giuliani,  Mrs.  Caledon  stopped  to  explain 
her  trouble. 

"  We  are  thirteen,"  she  said  ;  "  for  that  naughty  Miss 
Tufton  has  failed  me  at  the  last,  after  promising  faith- 
fully to  be  punctual.  She  knows  Sir  Mark  would  not  sit 
down  to  table  thirteen,  for  an  empire.  I  am  not  sure  he 
will  think  himself  safe  with  two  of  the  girls  at  a  side  table  " 


16  WHO   BREAKS — PATS. 

While  Mrs,  Caledon  was  still  speaking,  tlie  foldino; 
doors  opened,  and  a  young  lady  glided  in,  as  calm  and 
smiling  as  if  she  did  not  know  herself  to  be  a  delinquent. 

She  was  dressed  in  some  rich  black  silk,  which,  as  she 
moved,  showed  glossy  spots.  A  silver  grey  cloak, 
trimmed  with  swansdown.  hung  over  her  shoulders. 
Even  at  the  first  glimpse.  Giuliani  thought  her  a  miracle 
of  loveliness.  For  the  moment  he  lost  sight  of  every 
other  person  in  the  room.  Delicate,  slight,  but  erect, 
and  well  poised,  she  looked  tall  without  being  so.  Her 
hair  was  of  that  peculiar  fairness  which  has  the  a]ipear- 
ancc'of  being  slightly  powdered  with  gold.  Her  eye- 
brows were  narrow,  smooth,  and  darker  by  several 
shades  than  her  hair,  and  so  were  the  long  lashes,  that 
caused  her  blue  eyes  to  look  black  by  candle-light.  Her 
nose  was  singularly  handsome,  and  her  lips  red  and 
curved,  closing  well  over  small,  white,  regular  teeth, 
which  must  have  made  any  mouth  pretty. 

The  new  arrival's  beauty  was  enhanced  and  set  off  by 
an  indescribable  piquant  air  of  freshness  about  her 
whole  person  and  dress.  Every  eye  was  fixed  on  her, 
she  engrossed  the  silent  attention  of  the  thirteen  persons 
she  had  thrown  into  embarrassment,  without  showing 
the  least  symptom  of  shyness  or  of  self-consciousness  ; 
the  smile  on  her  face  was  puzzling;  whoever  remembers 
the  Mona  Lisa  in  the  Louvre  will  have  seen  that  sort  of 
mysterious  smile. 

Giuliani,  to  say  the  truth,  after  the  first  ahock  of  her 
uncommon  loveliness,  gazed  at  her  as  he  might  have 
done  at  any  charming  actress ;  he  almost  felt  inclined 
to  applaud,  when  he  saw  her  meet  Sir  Mark's  furious 
grins  with  such  intrepidity. 

Colonel  Caledon  led  the  beautiful  offender  into  the 
dining-room,  every  ruffle  cleared  from  his  brow,  and  out 
of  his  voice  almost  all  the  loudness  and  roughness 
vanished.  The  colonel  was  not  above  showing  the 
lively  cnthnsiasm  he  felt  fcir  beauty. 

The  elderly  lady,  who  had  arrived  with  Sir  ]\Iark,  and 
whom  Mr.  Giuliani  had  8u])i)oscd  to  be  Sir  Mark's  wife, 
was  a  Miss  Crumpton.  a  distant  connexion  of  theTnftons, 
and  considered  liy  the  baronet  as  a  dependant,  because 
he  did   not   receive  any  share   of  her  income  of  fiftj 


BEGINNINGS.  11 

pounds  a  year,  but  gave  her  board  and  lodging  free,  for 
the  motherly  care  she  bestowed  on  his  orphan  grand- 
daughter. Miss  Crumpton  had  an  old-fashioned,  cere- 
monious politeness,  that  made  her  strive  earnestly 
through  the  long  dinner,  to  induce  the  gentleman  on 
her  right  and  left  to  become  sociable ;  but  the  former 
was  English,  and  not  having  been  specially  introduced 
to  the  latter,  an  Italian,  could  not  be  tempted  into  any 
informality. 

•'  The  count  speaks  English  as  well  as  you  or  I,"  said 
Miss  Crumpton,  to  her  stiff  right-hand  neighbour.  She 
believed  every  continental  gentleman  to  be  a  count. 
"Doubtless,"  turning  to  her  left  hand,  "you  have  spent 
many  years  in  England,  sir?" 

"  A  couple  of  years,  madam,"  was  the  reply,  and 
Giuliani  ready  to  laugh  at  the  rank  bestowed  on  him, 
thought  of  making  a  public  disclaimer  of  any  right  to 
have  his  identity  so  muffled  during  his  uncle's  life.  But 
he  remembered  in  time  having  once  tried  to  undeceive 
Mrs.  CaledoQ  herself,  who,  after  listening,  or  apparently 
so,  to  his  explanation,  had  on  the  very  next  occasion, 
lavished  on  him  more  "  Monsieur  le  Comtes,"  than  ever. 

So  he  now  said  to  himself,  "  Allons  done,  comme  ga 
leur  pJatf,  qu'tis  s'en  donnent  de  leur  hirihi." 

After  dinner,  as  there  were  so  many  French  present, 
the  English  custom  of  the  gentlemen  sitting  over  their 
wine  after  the  ladies  had  left  the  table,  was  set  aside, 
and  all  the  guests  passed  together  into  the  salon. 

Miss  Tufton  was  immediately  surrounded  by  every 
man  in  the  room,  with  two  exceptions  ;  Sir  Mark,  who, 
seating  himself  between  two  of  the  youngest  girls,  was 
very  happy  to  be  pelted  by  the  pert  answers  elicited  by 
his  gallant  speeches ;  and  Mr.  Giuliani,  who,  as  usual, 
was  well  cared  for  by  his  tender-hearted  hostess.  She 
carried  on  her  conversation  with  him  in  the  lachrymose 
tone  generally  used  on  state  visits  of  condolence,  ready 
to  lead  or  follow  him  into  discussions  on  ■'  Suffering 
Italy." 

But  Giuliani  steadily  resisting  all  personal  topics, 
Mrs.  Caledon.  driven  to  seek  some  other  subject,  asked 
him  if  he  did  not  think  Miss  Tufton  "  the  nK)st  lovely 
creature  he  hud  ever  beheld." 

2* 


18  WHO   BREAKS — PAYS. 

He  said  quietly,  "Yes." 

''  Do  yon  put  no  more  enthusiasm  than  that  into  youf 
yes  f  I  have  no  patience  with  the  young  men  of  the 
present  day.  lifting  their  lorgnons  to  examine  a  charming 
girl,  as  if  she  were  merely  a  muslin  doll." 

"  My  admiration  is  warm  and  sincere." 

"  That's  right.    Come  and  let  me  introduce  you  to  her.'' 

"  Thank  you ;  but  I  have  a  dread  of  all  beginnings." 

"  You  really  puzzle  me,  Mr.  Giuliani." 

"  Have  you  never  heard,  Mrs.  Caledon,  that  it  is  only 
on  first  meeting  with  a  person  that  the  judgment  is  un- 
prejudiced, and  that  whatever  the  impression  then 
received,  it  ought  not  to  be  slighted  ?" 

"You  think  her  fantastical  ;  but,  poor  dear,  that  is 
the  effect  of  her  education,  and  the  odd  life  she  has  led 
with  that  queer  miser,  her  grandfather.  You  must  not 
be  prejudiced  against  my  little  friend ;  slie  is  not  yet 
nineteen,  remember.  Ah.  if  you  heard  her  sing,  you 
would  not  be  able  to  think  ill  of  her." 

"Though  my  admir.ation  should  reach  the  liighest 
pitch  of  intensity,  still,  believe  me,  we  should  never  as- 
similate. Leave  me  to  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  the  eye, 
which,  in  this  case,  is  perfect." 

It  is  not  easy  to  account  for  the  persistence  many 
people  show  in  carrying  out  a  matter  which  can  be  of  no 
imi)nrtancc  individually  to  Ihom  ;  unless,  indeed,  their 
pertinacily  proceeds  from  having  met  with  oi)position. 
or  from  an  inability  to  rid  themselves  of  the  pressure  of 
an  idea  until  it  has  become  action.  Whether  from  one 
motive  or  other,  or  from  being  what  country-folks  jMthily 
call  "meddlesome."  Mrs.  ('aledon  went  direct  from  Mr. 
Giuliani  to  Miss  Tufton  with  a  proposal  of  introducing 
the  Italian  to  her,  beginning  at  the  same  time  a  sort  of 
sketch  of  his  biography. 

"I  know  all  about  your  liion,  dear  Mrs.  Taledon," 
said  Lill  Tufton,  rather  petulantly;  "a  silly  youth, 
called  Valentine  Ponsonby,  has  given  me  his  history :  an 
ungrateful  country,  lost  illusions,  a  man  with  a  tragic 
comjilexion.  Why  didn't  he  come  to  our  dance  when  J 
was  so  good  as  t(»  ask  him  ?" 

"  Question  him  yourself" 

"No,  indeed;    that  would   be  making   him   imagine 


BEGINNINGS.  19 

himself  of  importance.  Pray  don't  introduce  him,  I 
should  never  be  able  to  think  of  anything  wise  enough 
to  say ;  I  have  no  political  convictions — " 

She  stopped  suddenly.  Giuliani  was  replying  to  one 
of  the  Englishmen,  who,  having  been  hitroduced  to  him 
by  Colonel  Caledon,  was  kindly  endeavouring  to  put  him, 
as  an  Italian,  right,  as  to  Italy's  safest  course,  conclud- 
ing with, — 

"  You  will  find  I  am  right,  sir ;  our  papers  say  just 
what  I  do." 

"  Sir,"  replied  Giuliani,  "  I  have  the  temerity  to  differ 
from  beginning  to  end  from  many  English  papers." 

"  I  like  him  1"  exclaimed  Lill ;  "  I  like  people  who 
speak  oat  for  themselves  ;  besides,  I  like  his  voice  ;  it  ii 
a  gentleman's.  I  judge  of  people's  rank  by  their  voices 
Oh,  yes,  bring  him  here,  by  all  means." 

Beautiful  eyes  sparkling  with  welcome,  lovely  lips 
speaking  welcome,  generally  are  irresistible  to  men,  even 
to  the  sourest  of  misogynists,  if  such  creatures  really 
exist.  The  hermit  ofthe  Rue  de  Berlin,  who  feared 
"  beginnings,"  because  he  knew  they  must  be  followed 
by  inflexible,  inevitable  consequences,  who  was  so  sure 
of  no  possible  assimilation  between  him  and  the  beauty, 
was  neither  strong&r  nor  weaker  than  his  neighbours 
when  he  came  under  such  pleasant  influences.  In  fact, 
as  the  lovely  face  turned  itself  ingenuously  to  his  gaze, 
as  the  tones  of  a  joyous  voice  caressed  his  ear,  his  own 
heart  beats  became  fuller  and  faster. 

The  conversation,  if  by  such  a  dignified  word  it  may 
be  defined,  consisted  of  short  questions  and  answers ; 
but  never  had  wit.  good  sense,  or  learning  sounded  so 
captivatingly  to  Giuliani:  yet  Lill  was  not  so  pleasant 
as  usual.  As  she  had  said  to  Mrs.  Caledon,  she  had 
heard  of  Giuliani  from  Valentine  Ponsonby ;  and,  besides 
his  biography,  having  been  told  that  he  was  a  man  of 
talent,  Lill  wished  to  shine  before  him,  and  gave  way  to 
a  sarcasm  not  natural  to  her.  It  is  so  easy  to  be  satiri- 
cal, while  it  is  so  difficult  to  be  witty.  But  beautiful 
eyes  and  sweet  smiles  have  a  way  of  their  own  of  bribing 
men's  judgment,  and  Lill's  petulant  gaiety  succeeded  far 
better  than  Greek  roots  in  banishing  furrows  and  hard 
Hues  from  Giuliani's  forehead  and  mouth. 


20  WHO  BREAKS — PAYS. 

Sir  Mark's  juvenile  attentions  and  lively  repartee  had. 
during  the  last  quarter  of  an  hour,  gradually  run  down 
into  gravity  and  silence.  His  head  had  acquired  that 
tremulous  motion  which  the  electric  current  gives  to 
trees  bolore  a  temjjest.  The  girls  on  the  divan  watched 
these  movements  and  signs  of  emotion  with  much  the 
same  half-alarm,  half-amusement  with  which  they  would 
have  looked  at  the  demonstrations  of  agitation  in  a 
fierce  inmate  of  one  of  the  cages  in  the  Zoological 
Gardens.     Presently  the  baronet  asked, — 

"  Who  is  that  Miss  Tufton  is  talking  to?" 

"  That  is  Mr.  Giuliani,  our  Italian  master,"  came  in  a 
breath  from  the  two  girls.  "  Oh,  such  a  delightful  man ; 
so  clever,  so  unhappy,  so — " 

"  Italian  master  !"  ejaculated  Sir  Mark.  "  What's  he 
here  for  ?" 

"  He  is  not  a  common  master,  I  assure  you,  Sir  Mark," 
answered  Colonel  Calcdon's  niece.  Rose;  "he  is  only  a 
master  as  Louis  Philippe  was  when  he  was  in  exile.  Mr. 
Giuliani  is  one  of  my  uncle's  dearest  friends." 

Sir  Mark  made  no  observation  in  return,  but  walked 
up  to  his  granddaughler. 

"  The  horses  have  been  waiting  an  hour.  Miss  Tufton." 

Lill  nodded,  without  iiiterrui)tiug  her  conversation. 
She  was  saying, — 

"I  never  thought  of  attending  to  the  story  of  an 
opera,  I  have  always  supposed  the  plot  of  an  opera 
much  on  a  par  with  that  of  a  ballet ;  but  this  of  Ernani 
must  be  interesting.  Sir  Mark,  I  should  like  to  go  and 
hear  Ernani." 

Sir  Mark  lifted  one  foot,  then  the  other,  and  made  a 
noise  like  the  ghost  of  stamping. 

"  Come,  come  away  :"  and  Sir  Mark  seized  the  young 
lady's  hand,  forcing  her  to  rise;  he  must  have  been 
Buirniiently  violent,  f<(r  he  b\u'st  her  glove. 

She  extricated  herself  from  tlie  unkind  grasp,  and 
drew  off  her  glove,  throwing  it  on  the  ground  between 
herself  and  her  grandfather;  it  was  doiu'  as  defiantly aa 
though  slie  liail  meant  it  as  a  gage  of  battle.  She  then 
turned  to  the  Italian, 

"Mr.  Giuliani,  would  you  be  so  very  good — I  am 
ashamed   to   trouble  you — would  you  be  so  good  as  to 


BEGINNINGS.  21 

secure  a  box  for  us  the  very  first  evening  Ernaiu  is 
played  ?  Our  address  is  594,  Champs  Elys§cs ;  and  re- 
member we  expect  you  to  be  of  our  party.  (Jood-night  I" 
and  she  held  out  her  ungloved  hand,  flashing  with  jewels. 

Foreigners  are  not  accustomed  to  shaking  hands  with 
young  ladies ;  Giuliani  scarcely  touched  the  beauty's 
dimpled  fingers  as  he  bowed  long  and  low. 

She  then  allowed  Sir  Mark  to  trot  oil"  with  her;  and 
Giuliani,  as  he  followed  them  down  stairs,  fancied  he 
heard  several  menacing  snarls. 

No  one  had  thought  Miss  Crumpton  of  sufficient  con- 
sequence to  be  warned  that  her  party  were  going  away. 
In  another  minute  a  servant  came  hurrying  to  the  placid 
spinster ;  she  almost  upset  Giuliani,  who  was  on  the 
stairs.  Recovering  his  equilibrium,  he  courteously 
offered  lier  his  arm. 

"  594,  Mr.  Giuliani,"  cried  Lill,  from  within  the  car- 
riage. 


22  WHO  BREAKS — PAYS. 

CHAPTER    III. 

Consequences  of  Beginnings. 

It  is  a  pretty  smart  walk  from  the  Rue  de  Berri  to 
the  Rue  de  Berlin,  on  a  wiutry  uight;  nevei'theless 
Giuliani  found  himself  at  his  own  door  as  if  he  had 
flown  thither.  There  was  elation  in  his  every  movement; 
he  had  had  a  sip  of  the  waters  of  IjCthe  ;  pity  it  had  not 
been  a  cup-full,  strong  enough  to  last  through  the  uight. 
But  the  sight  of  the  familiar  instruments  of  his  daily 
torture,  the  copy-books,  pens  and  ink,  would  have 
sufficed  to  set  the  river  of  oblivion  at  defiance,  without 
the  aid  of  his  writing-table  drawer.  It  was  open,  because 
there  was  neither  gold  nor  silver  in  it,  to  protect  from 
thieves.  Giuliani  carried  all  he  possessed  of  current 
coin  in  his  waistcoat  pocket,  he  had  no  overplus  to  make 
him  fret,  or  keep  him  from  sleep.  Nevertheless,  he  slept 
that  night  as  badly  as  any  minister  of  fluauce,  who  has 
the  wealth  of  a  nation  in  his  keeping. 

The  pupils  who  saw  Giuliani  well-dressed,  calm,  digni- 
fied, had  no  idea  that  the  master  about  whom  they  gos- 
siped, as  girls  will  gossip,  very  often  went  without  any 
other  dinner  than  a  piece  of  chocolate  and  a  crust  of 
bread. 

Not  more  courage  had  Giuliani  sliown  on  the  field  of 
battle,  than  he  did  in  Ids  daily  combat  witii  life  in  the 
pleasant  capital  of  France.  No  living  soul  had  ever 
heard  a  lament  or  a  recpiest  for  help  issue  from  those 
sharply-cut  lips.  Rent,  taxes,  clothing,  fuel,  food ; 
serious  items  these,  to  be  met  by  the  two  or  three  francs 
thought  sufficient  I'or  a  lesson  of  Italian  ;  and  what  mean 
haggling  too,  as  to  that  j)articular  lialf-crown  to  be  paid 
for  it  !  it  is  not  only  l)y  jdoking  behind  the  scenes  of  a 
thi'iitre,  that  j)h'asant  illusions  are  lost.  What  con- 
temptible tricks  are  daily  played  in  the  behind  scenes  of 
cvery-day  life,  to  i)erniit  of  a  little  more  external  show, 
a  little  more  dash  than  our  next-door  neighbour! 

'I'here  is  yet  something  else  to  be  added  to  the  list  of 
a  refugee's  expenses — charity  to  fellow  exiles,  who  can 
teach  nothing,  but  how  to  live  on  a  straw  a  day. 


CONSEQUENCES   OF    BEGINNINQS.  23 

But  vvliy?  somebody  will  ask  here,  wliy  slioiiUl  a 
man,  so  well  born,  ancl  so  rich  in  intellectual  gifts  as 
Mr.  Giuliani,  stick  in  the  Slough  of  Despond,  which 
teaching  is  ?  Ah  !  why  indeed,  have  so  many  illustrious 
exiles  (a  long  line,  from  Dionysius  of  Syracuse,  down  to 
the  noble-minded  Manini), demanded  a  scanty  subsistence 
from  tuition  ?  For  this  simple  reason,  that  they  had  no 
other  choice.  Be  a  man's  attainments  ever  so  great, 
they  are  of  small  avail  towards  his  turning  an  honest 
penny  out  of  the  natural  sphere  of  their  exercise.  But 
imagine  a  man,  hurled  by  victorious  force  into  a  foreign 
laud,  too  proud  to  accept  relief  from  governments  or 
committees,  with  no  friends,  no  patronage,  and  no  dispo- 
sition to  solicit  any.  What  is  left  to  that  man,  but  to 
bring  into  the  market  his  knowledge  of  mathematics, 
music,  or  languages — that  which  he  knows  best  ?  Thus 
it  was  that  Giuliani  had  advertised  for  lessons,  as  a 
matter  of  necessity.  He  did  not  court  it — a  hard  fate  ! 
for  his  was  the  belief,  right  or  wrong,  that  the  humblest 
calling  might  be  made  honourable  by  the  manner  of  dis- 
charging it. 

New  and  more  brilliant  openings  had,  in  course  of 
time,  offered  themselves  to  him.  Newspapers  and  peri- 
odicals requested  political  and  literary  contributions,  and 
he  gave  them  willingly.  His  articles  were  highly  praised, 
but  they  were  considered  too  strict,  too  unbending,  he 
must  modify  here,  suppress  there,  soothe,  dilute,  flatter ; 
in  short,  substitute  other  people's  tastes  and  views  for 
his  own  tastes  and  views.  A  man  all  of  one  piece  as  he 
was,  of  course  flatly  refused  this  advice,  and  there  was 
an  end  of  his  career  as  a  man  of  letters.  This  expe- 
rience had  served  to  reconcile  him  to  his  modest  avoca- 
tion as  a  teacher  ;  he  held  it  to  be  the  only  one  consistent, 
under  his  circumstances,  with  independence  and  self-re- 
spect. None  other,  moreover,  could  half  so  well  satisfy 
that  morbid  craving  for  obscurity,  which  is  the  supremest 
boon  to  wounded  hearts.  His  life  brightened  from  the 
day  when  his  lucky  star  guided  a  youth  named  Valen- 
tine Ponsouby,  at  that  period  meditating  a  visit  to 
Rome,  to  his  attic. 

The  new  pupil  insisted  on  introducing  his  master  to 
his  mother  and  sister.     Not  the  most  sickly  suscepti- 


24  WHO  BREAKS PAYa. 

bility  ever  did  or  could  withstand  the  cheering  presence 
of  the  youth's  mother.  Despondency  and  fear  fled 
before  Lady  Ponsonby,  as  darlvness  flies  at  the  approach 
of  genial  light.  Her  sunny  smile  penetrated  into  the 
dimmest  corners  of  a  benighted  heart;  the  imps  of 
bitterness  there  ensconsed  had  to  pack  up  their  baggage 
and  depart.  When  Lady  Ponsonby  rang  at  Mr.  Giuli- 
ani's door  bell,  and  stood  before  him  in  the  middle  of 
his  laboratory  of  hard  work  and  deprivation,  he  felt,  aa 
he  himself  expressed  it,  as  if  proved  by  the  touch  of 
Ithuriel's  spear — with  her  he  was  his  true  self. 

The  recollection  of  this  benignant  friend  restored 
tranquillity  enough  to  the  Italian,  to  permit  of  his  hand- 
ling his  clouded  cane  with  a  steady  hand,  as  he  sallied 
forth  on  his  daily  rounds  the  morning  after  Colonel 
Caledon's  dinner-party.  Yes,  at  the  worst  he  had  a 
harbour  of  refuge :  he  had  certainly  never  yet  applied 
to  Lady  Ponsonby  for  a  pecuniary  loan,  but  he  was  sure 
she  was  a  friend,  even  including  her  purse.  However, 
he  would  only  ask  her  when  every  other  attempt  had 
failed.  His  watch  was  at  this  present  moment  reposing 
in  some  of  the  yawning  caverns  of  the  Mont-de-Pi6t6 ; 
pledged  in  order  that  an  old  Italian  of  gentle  birth,  an 
exile  for  conscience'  sake,  might  have  a  whole  suit  of 
clothes  on  his  back  when  he  entered  on  the  situation  of 
a  sweeper-out  of  a  house  of  business.  His  books  indeed ! 
those  trusty  feres !  Giuliani  shook  his  head,  they  would 
have  been  a  useless  sacrifice ;  the  mass  of  them  would 
not  have  brought  a  suflicient  sum  to  secure  for  Miss 
Tufton  the  use  of  an  opera  box  for  one  night.  There 
was  nothing  for  it,  but  to  solicit  some  payments  of  les- 
sons long  overdue. 

Shrinking  inwardly  as  though  about  to  commit  a 
shabby  action,  Giuliani  made  his  several  applications. 
It  is  very  strange  how  delicate-minded  people,  when  ask- 
ing for  their  money,  do  so  with  a  timidity  that  would 
better  suit  the  debtors,  who  l)ohlly  negative  Ihe  request 
as  though  it  were  an  insult.  He  was  not  the  man  to 
obtain  his  money,  and  returned  to  bis  lodging  as  poor 
as  he  left  it;  nevertheless  irrevocably  resolved  that  he 
would  fulfil  pretty  Miss  Tui'ton's  commission.  He  did 
specially  wi.sli  to  please  her,  but  more  specially  wish  thai 


CONSEQUENCES    OF    BEOINNINOS.  25 

she  should  remain  ignorant  of  his  difficulty  in  doing  so : 
he  felt  as  if  he  would  rather  have  committed  a  crime, 
than  meet  her  wondering  smile  at  any  explanation  of  his 
poverty. 

This  was  Saturday — Lady  Ponsonby  always  received 
on  Saturday  evenings  those  of  her  friends  who  would 
take  the  trouble  to  go  to  her.  He  would  strive  to  be 
the  first  arrival,  so  as  to  have  his  mind  relieved,  and  be 
able  as  usual  to  enjoy  the  charm  her  ladyship  diffused 
around  her. 


26  WHO  BREAKS — PATS. 

CHAPTER  lY. 

Incipit  Vita  Nova. 

Before  mid-day  on  Monday  morning  Miss  Tufton  re- 
ceived  an  envelope,  containing  tie  coupon  of  a  private 
box  at  the  Italian  Opera  for  the  following  evening.  She 
was  as  pleased  as  a  child  with  a  new  bauble.  Mr.  Giu- 
liani was  a  delightful,  kind  man.  so  quiet  and  unobtru- 
sive :  she  did  really  believe  that  the  best  people  were 
the  most  reserved. 

Miss  Crumpton,  to  whom  these  remarks  were  made, 
tried  to  pitch  her  answers  to  the  height  of  Lill's  tone, 
but  failed  ;  for  the  young  lady  exclaimed,  petulantly,  — 

"  What's  the  matter  now,  Crummie  ?  It's  very  strange 
I  can  never  have  a  pleasure,  but  some  one  damps  it." 

"  My  dear,  I  am  as  delighted  as  you  can  be  about  the 
box,  and  I  consider  this  Italian  gentleman,  I  assure  you, 
a  most  agreeable  person  ;  but — " 

"Well,  as  there  is  a  'but'  —  must  be  a  'but'  in  the 
case,  take  couraye,  Crummie,  and  out  with  it." 

"  Sir  Mark,  wliat  will  he  say  ?" 

"Nothing  pleasant  or  polite,  that's  certain;  however, 
he  heard  me  make  the  request,  and  if  he  had  meant  to 
interfere,  he  would  have  done  so  before  this.  0  Crum- 
mie, '  sufficient  for  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof.'  Do,  like 
a  good  soul,  let  me  enjoy  myself  this  once.  I  never  felt 
happy  about  a  play  before.  I  am  going  to  write  a  note 
to  my  slave  Valentine,  to  ask  him  to  bring  me  his  copy 
o{ Ernani  this  evening.  I  know  he  has  the  whole  opera, 
for  he  was  raving  aliout  Emani  invnlami  the  last  time 
I  saw  him.     I  want  to  know  the  music  beforehand." 

Miss  Crumpton  cither  was,  or  seemed  to  be,  deep  in 
the  mys1(M-ies  of  a  crochet  pattern.  She  nevertheless 
heard  Lill's  pen  gliding  rapidly  over  the  paper,  and  the 
anxious  look  in  the  old  lady's  face  deepened. 

"  Tiicrc  ;  it  is  done  ;  and  admire  my  di])lomalic  talent. 
I  have  asked  Master  Valentine  to  join  our  party  to- 
morrow,  and  to  tell  Mr,  Ciuliani  I  expect  him  to  meet 
U8  at  the  great  entrance  of  the  Salle  Ventadour." 

'J'hc  beauty  rang  the  bell,  and  desired  the  footman  to 


INCIPIT    VITA    NOVA.  21 

carry  the  note  to  its  address.  A  minute  or  two  after- 
wards Sir  Mark  entered  the  room  where  the  hidies  were, 
The  Times  in  his  hand,  and  his  gold  spectacles  on  his 
nose.  Sir  Mark  must,  indeed,  have  been  excited  to 
make  his  appearance  in  glasses,  for  even  with  his  grand- 
danghter  he  strove  to  maintain  a  show  of  juvenility. 

'•Where  have  you  sent  Joseph,  Miss  Tufton  ?" 

"  To  Mr.  Ponsonby,  to  ask  for  the  music  of  the  opera 
of  Ernani." 

"  Why  cannot  yon  buy  it  for  yourself?" 

"  You  know  very  well  that  I  have  no  money." 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  am  persuaded  you  have  plenty,  at 
least,  you  give  orders  as  if  you  had." 

Sir  Mark  was  examining,  as  he  said  this,  the  coupon 
of  the  opera  box. 

Lill  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  walked  to  one  of  the 
windows.     Sir  Mark  now  turned  to  Miss  Crumpton. 

"  Can  you  oblige  me  by  lending  me  forty  francs  ?"  he 
asked,  in  his  most  suave  voice. 

"  Certainly,  Sir  Mark,"  said  Miss  Crumpton,  with 
hurried  glibness,  taking  out  her  purse;  "only,  —  oh 
dear !   I  am  very  sorry.  Sir  Mark,  but  I  have  not  more 

than,  let  me   see "  counting   some  few  pieces   of 

silver. 

"  Never  mind,  never  mind,"  said  Sir  Mark,  good- 
humouredly ;  "  it's  that  fool  Joseph  being  out  of  the 
way,  or  I  would  not  have  troubled  you.  1  was  about  to 
send  him  to  the  bank." 

Lill  had  turned  to  look  at  the  pair :  she  now  burst 
into  an  irrepressible,  clear,  ringing  laugh.  Miss  Crump- 
ton looked  aghast;  but  Sir  Mark  joined  in  his  grand- 
daughter's merriment  as  he  left  the  room. 

"  What  a  wicked  old  man  that  is  !"  cried  Lill.  "  How 
slyly  he  managed  to  find  out  that  you  bad  no  money. 
He  is  quite  happy  at  the  thought  of  having  made  us 
both  thoroughly  uncomfortable." 

"  I  guessed  he  would  not  pay  for  that  box,"  said  Miss 
Crumpton,  disconsolately:  "and  now  what  are  we  to 
do  ?  for  here  is  all  I  have  —  twenty  francs,  and  my  next 
payment  not  due  for  a  month." 

"  He  will  give  me  money  some  day  or  other,  he  must.'' 
said  Lill. 


28  WHO   BREAKS — PAYS. 

"Mr.  Giuliani  ought  to  be  paid  at  once,  my  dear  girl 
he  is  quite  a  stranger,  and —  and  I  suspect  he  is  poor; 
he  is  only  an  Italian  master,  you  know." 

Lill  grew  very  red. 

"  Dear  good  old  woman,  you  are  right,  as  you  always 
are.  I  know  what  I  will  do ;  I  will  sell  some  of  my 
bracelets  and  rings.  I  wonder  what  a  box  costs.  Crum- 
mie,  let  us  go  at  once," 

"  And  if  Sir  Mark  comes  to  know  what  you  have  done  ?" 

"  He  dare  not  kill  me ;  and  my  thoughtlessness  shall 
not  be  the  cause  of  annoyance  to  any  one  who  has  done 
me  a  kindness.  Old  pet,  you  shall  not  come  with  me ; 
yoa  shall  be  innocent  of  my  offence.  I'll  take  Ruth.  It 
is  of  no  use  arguing,  cousin  Crumpton  ;  I  won't  let  you 
have  a  share  in  my  punishment.  Could  any  human  being 
who  saw  us  —  saw  me  —  dressed  as  I  am,  surrounded  by 
these  useless  fiddle-faddles"  (pointing  to  tables  covered, 
with  a  profusion  of  expensive  nicnacs)  —  could  any  one 
believe  that  I  can  never  command  a  penny  ?  If  alms- 
giving is  to  help  one  to  Heaven,  Sir  Mark  and  I  may 
make  pretty  sure  that  we  shall  not  even  get  a  foot  in 
there." 

"  My  dear  girl,  the  fault  is  not  yours ;  you  have  the 
warmest  and  most  generous  heart  that  ever  beat." 

"  Dear  cousin !"  and  Lill  kneeled  down  by  the  old 
lady's  side,  fixing  on  her,  eyes  so  radiant  with  honest 
affection,  that  Miss  Crumpton  may  be  forgiven  if  she 
were  always  ready  to  roast  the  old  world  to  warm  Lill. 
"  Dear  cousin,"  went  on  Lill,  "  what  virtue  or  grace  do 
you  think  I  am  wanting  in?" 

Lill  sighed. 

Miss  Crumpton  had  never  before  heard  a  sigh  from 
her  lovely  charge. 

"Do  not  fret  yourself,  my  dear;  I'll  take  the  whole 
business  on  myself,  and  borrow  the  money  from  Mrs. 
tlaledon." 

"  You  do  not,  I  hope,  think  I  am  sighing  about  my 
trinkets;  no  indeed,  cousin,  1  was  sighing  at  a  glinipso 
1  caught  of  my  own  inner  self,  and  it  shows  me  that  I 
do  care  about  luxury.  I  revel  in  what  the  Catechism 
calls  the  pomps  and  vanity  of  life;  silks,  satins,  flower.s, 
jewels,  perfumes,  carriages,  idleness,  and    no   contact 


INCIVIT    VITA    NOVA.  29 

with  common  people :  I  enjoy  even  the  playint^  at  being 
rich  ;  for  after  all,  bnt  for'  Sir  Mark,  I  should  have  to 
be*r,  or  work,  or  starve." 

Lill  stopped,  out  of  breath  and  flushed  by  her  confes- 
sion. 

"  You  exaggerate,"  said  Miss  Crumpton,  placidly,  and 
putting  a  pin  to  mark  her  place  in  her  crochet  pattern. 
"  I  believe  we  all  prefer  being  comfortable  to  uncom- 
fortable." 

"  Very  despicable  of  us  if  we  do,  at  the  expense  of  our 
self-respect,"  returned  Lill,  quickly.  "I  am  a  mass  of 
contradictions  ;  I  had  rather  be  a  stock  or  a  stone  than 
the  victim  of  that  old  man's  tyrannical,  capricious  treat- 
ment. I  hate  myself  for  submitting  to  be  decked  out 
and  paraded  as  I  am,  just  as  a  sultan's  slave  might  be, 
and  yet — " 

"What  alternative  have  you,  my  dear?" 

"Keep  a  little  mercery  shop,  and  in  the  evening  sit 
in  its  cozy  back  parlour,  you  and  I,  and  have  such  capi- 
tal tea  and  nice  buttered  toast ;  a  good  novel  for  me, 
while  you  were  counting  over  our  daily  gains.  I  saw 
something  of  the  sort  one  day  when  we  were  shopping 
in  X  — ,  and  I  thought  then  that  old  woman  and  girl 
wore  happier  than  either  of  us,  cousin  Crumpton.  How- 
ever, I  dare  say  it  would  not  be  better  than  any  other 
reality,  —  and  poverty  !" 

Lill  had  been  laughing  while  she  spoke,  but  she  added 
gravely  enough,  — 

"  Poverty  !     I  am  afraid  of  being  poor." 

"  Ay  !   and  no  wonder,  poor  thing." 

"Yes,  I  hate  money,  hate  that  continual  want  of  it, 
and  reverence  for  it,"  continued  Lill,  n.  ore  to  herself 
than  to  her  chaperone.  "Evil  communication  will  do 
its  bad  work  on  me ;  I  don't  believe  I  should  feel  the 
same  horror  and  disquiet  now,  which  I  felt  two  years 
ago,  when,  while  I  was  reading  Shakspeare,  my  grand- 
father's voice,  gloating  over  his  percents,  came  mingling 
with  what  I  read." 

Lill's  bitter  words  were  the  mere  expression  of  the 
feeling  of  the  moment,  a  cry  of  sudden  pain.  She  wiped 
away  some  stray  tears  unobserved  by  the  industrious 
Miss  Crumpton. 

3* 


30  WHO  BREAKS — PAYS. 

"  Now,  away  with  all  gloom,"  she  exclaimed.  '  I 
shall  be  off'  to  get  money  to  pay  this  good-natured  Mr 
Giuliani,  and  to-morrow  night  I  will  enjoy  myself  if  I 
never  do  so  again." 

Before  dinner  Ijill  handed  to  jNIiss  Crurapton  five  hun 
dred  francs. 

"  Gracious  me,  my  dear  !"  cried  the  old  lady  in  alarm, 
'  that  is  far  more  than  necessary  for  an  opera  box. 
What  have  you  sold  ?" 

"  Oh,  a  heap  of  things  I  was  tired  of.  If  it  is  too 
much  for  the  box,  we  will  give  what  remains  to  some 
poor  person." 

"  Lill,  do  promise  to  be  more  prudent ;  you  must  in 
deed." 

"  Thank  you,  cousin,  for  trying  to  be  authoritative, 
but  I  cannot  promise,  for  I  should  forget  just  at  the 
critical  moment.  One  good  comes  of  this  evil.  As  long 
as  I  have  a  trinket  I  can  foil  Sir  Mark's  meanness." 

"It  makes  me  tremble  to  Ihink  what  would  be  the 
consequence  if  Sir  Mark  found  out  this  business." 

"  He  made  his  poor  wife  tremble ;  and  I  daresay  my 
poor  father  and  mother  also  ;  I  do  not  know  whether  he 
could  make  me  tremble  ;  I  can  only  fancy  being  alarmed 
at  the  auger  of  a  person  I  loved.     AVe  shall  see." 

Lill  was  in  her  wildest  spirits  that  evening.  Valentine 
Ponsonby  brought  her  the  music  of  Eruani ;  she  under- 
took to  sing  all  the  female  parts,  forcing  Valentine,  who 
had  very  little  voice,  and  was  timid  to  excess  before  Sir 
Mark,  to  sing  Ernani's  and  Silva's  songs.  Sir  Mark, 
morose  and  despotic  as  was  his  normal  state  in  his  do- 
mestic circle,  was  for  a  while  charmed  out  of  himself  by 
Lfll's  singing.  The  voice  could  not  be  spoiknl  by  the 
.  lively  caricature  of  her  manner.  She  travestied  the 
tragical  situations  as  gracefully  as  wildly;  it  was  the 
"novice  laughing  at,  ami  playing  with  deadly  tools. 

To  Lill's  and  Mi.'^s  Crumpton's  astonishment,  Sir 
Mark's  good  humou-  was  unal)at('d  the  next  day.  lie 
even  advised  some  change  in  the  flowers  in  his  grand- 
daughter's hair,  which,  as  his  taste  was  universally  ac- 
knowledged to  b(>  excpiisite  as  to  womaji's  dress,  the 
young  liidy  acceded  to. 

"  Little  demon!"  he  ejaculated,  as  he  himself  handed 


INCIPIT    VITA    NOVA.  61 

her  inlo  the  carriafje.  "  How  bravely  she  bears  herself! 
It's  uot  much  wonder  she  fools  pleasures  out  of  men." 

It  was  the  hour  when  artisans  and  workmen  were 
leaving  work :  many  of  them  were  attracted  to  stand 
still  and  watch  the  ladies  get  into  the  smart  equipage. 
Hardworking,  toil-stained  men  they  were  ;  but  most  of 
them  intelligent  critics  as  to  ladies  and  their  carriages. 
There  was  a  harmony  between  Lill's  youth,  lovelinesg 
and  attire  which  pleased  these  spectators;  but  Miss 
Crumpton,  unshapely  and  grey-haired,  in  a  cap  with 
bright  roses,  had  an  undue  share  of  sneers.  As  Lill 
leaned  back  on  the  soft  cushions,  wrapped  in  cashmere, 
she  said, — 

"  How  astonished  that  bricklaj'er,  who  stared  at  us  so 
insolently,  would  be  if  I  explained  my  situation  to  him ; 
told  him,  in  fact,  that  I  am  poorer  than  he  is,  for  I  could 
not  gain  my  daily  bread !" 

"  You  should  not  look  at  these  sort  of  people,  Lill, 
it  is  imprudent — dangerous ;  these  French  are  a  cruel 
race." 

Lill  did  not  continue  the  subject ;  she  dreaded  tears 
and  quotations  from  the  book  published  by  the  Valet 
Clery,  describing  the  sufferings  of  Louis  XVI.  and 
Marie  Antoinette,  and  which  was  one  of  the  few  books 
Miss  Crumpton  had  read  from  beginning  to  end.  Never- 
theless, Lill  could  not  banish  from  her  thoughts  the 
ironical  expression  of  those  workmen's  faces ;  it  had 
ruffled  her  composure,  and,  at  the  same  time,  astonished 
her.  She  had  hitherto  felt  so  secure  of  being  only  an 
object  of  respect  and  wonder  to  the  poor.  She  now  re- 
ceived one  of  the  many  accidental  impressions  which  get 
up  a  battle  with  one  another  every  now  and  then  in  our 
minds,  and  which,  while  their  contrary  influences  render 
us  riddles  to  ourselves,  conduct  us  to  our  destiny. 

But  the  Tufton  carriage  has  entered  the  line  of  other 
equipages  waiting  to  set  down  fair  opera-goers,  and  Liil 
comes  back  to  her'  own  special  world  again. 

While  yet  a  long  way  off,  Giuliani  perceived  Lill,  and 
that  not  a  passer-by  but  turned  to  gaze  again  at  the 
beautiful  English  girl.  He  could  see  that  she  was 
so  busily  reconnoitring  for  some  one,  as  to  be  quite  un- 
conscious of   the   notice   she   attracted.      A   glow   of 


32  WHO    BREAKS PAYS. 

pleasure  warmed  his  heart  when  the  sndden  lightini';'  up 
of  her  eyes,  as  her  glance  fell  on  him,  showed  it  was  him- 
self she  had  been  seeking. 

How  was  Giuliani,  anj^  more  than  the  bricklayer,  to 
guess  that  this  brilliant  creature,  surrounded  by  all  the 
appurtenances  of  wealth,  was  so  unaccustomed  to  any 
kindly  attention  to  her  wishes,  as  to  have  magnified  a 
common  act  of  courtesy  into  one  of  real  kindness  ?  How 
was  he  to  imagine  that  this  sylph,  in  celestial  blue  silk, 
had  been  as  troubled  as  himself  to  find  the  necessary 
Mumber  of  francs  to  pay  for  the  opera  box  ;  tliat  the 
only  difference  between  their  cases  was,  that  she  had 
trinkets  to  pawn,  and  no  Lady  Ponsonby  to  assist  her. 

No  one  comprehends  the  other's  situation  in  this  world. 

Tt  was  a  gala  evening  at  the  Italian  :  every  box  was 
full;  every  stall  occupied — the  pit  crammed.  Many  who 
could  not  find  seats  were  lounging  in  the  corridors  and 
alleys.  The  curtain  was  still  down,  and  every  man  in 
pit  or  stall  was  standing  with  his  back  to  the  stage,  his 
double  lorgnon  levelled  at  the  loges  d^converies,  wonder- 
ing from  whence  had  so  suddenly  congregated  such  a 
distracting  splendour  of  eyes,  lips,  hair,  teeth,  as  he  saw 
there.  It  seemed  as  if  every  young  and  beautiful  woman 
in  Paris  had  agreed  on  a  rendezvous  to  dispute  the  ])alm 
of  beauty.  Not  one  of  the  lovely  creatures  there  feared 
the  Hood  of  light  falling  on  her  from  the  great  and  little 
lustres;  vivid  lightning  glances  flashed  round;  cheeks 
Hushed,  and  lips  smiled  provokingly  back  to  tlie  burning 
gaze  directed  to  them. 

The  box  into  which  Giuliani — resisting  the  longing  to 
oiTer  Miss  Tufton  his  arm — led  the  chaperone.  was  one 
l)ehind  the  lufjes  ddcouvertes,  really  a  private  box  in  its 
literal  sense,  few  glances,  in  c()mj)arison,  jienetratiiig 
within.  Perhaps  for  an  instant  the  English  beauty  felt 
disappointed,  as  she  leaned  forwar<l  to  look  at  the  house, 
that  she  was  not  one  of  that  dazzling  circle  ;  but  she 
smilrd  very  pleasantly  when  (jiuliani,  who  had  seen  the 
fair  face  cloud,  hoped  lie  had  not  mistaken  her  wishes. 

The  opera  of  Ermnti,  as  jn-obably  every  one  knows, 
is  founilcd  on  Yictur  Hugo's  ILrimni,  so  famous  as  the 
lirst  ]iicce  playt.'d  at  tiie  Tli6atrc  Frani;ais,  in  which  the 
classic  unities  wore  set  aside — the  first  play  in  which  the 


INCIPTT    VITA    NOVA.  33 

scenery  was  chaMged,  an  innovation  that  had  convulsed 
all  literary  Paris. 

Verdi's  music  was  iu  its  greatest  vogue  on  the  night 
in  question  ;  and  at  the  first  tap  of  the  conductor's  stick, 
there  was  a  volte-face  in  pit  and  stalls ;  opera  glasses 
prepared  to  mark  the  time,  and  only  one  or  two  ardent 
devotees  kept  their  eyes  on  the  loges  d^couvertes. 
From  the  first  note  to  the  last  of  the  music  of  Ervani, 
there  is  in  it  the  unmistakable  accent  of  deep  passion ; 
it  keeps  every  fibre  of  the  heart  vibrating,  every  nerve 
quivering. 

Her  arm  resting  on  the  dark  red  velvet  of  the  cushion 
of  the  front  of  the  box,  her  chin  in  her  hand,  her  eyes 
fixed,  her  lijjs  half-open,  Lill  did  more  than  listen,  she 
drank  in  each  enchanting  sound.  Giuliani,  to  whom  Er- 
iiani  was  a  four-fold  told  tale,  now  listened  with  a  pas- 
sionate rapture  and  vehemence  of  emotion  nearer  to 
pain  than  pleasure.  Those  who  have  not  heard  such 
music  in  the  company  of  one  loved,  or  about  to  be  loved, 
know  not  as  yet  all  the  irresistible  power  of  music. 

Two  or  three  times  when  the  melody  was  most  tender, 
or  the  harmony  most  entrancing — and  what  other  than 
Italian  music  ever  so  entirely  sounds  the  depths  of  human ' 
feeling  ? — Lill  turned  to  Giuliani  in  search  of  sympathy ; 
and  to  him  it  seemed  as  if  he  read  through  those  clear 
eyes  into  her  soul.  As  he  sat  contemplating  her,  the 
first  impression  she  had  made  on  him  vanished.  Her 
manners  and  habits  were  those  of  the  world  she  lived  in ; 
but  beneath  all,  he  felt  sure,  lay  hid  a  deep  sensibility. 
It  was  a  happiness  hitherto  unknown,  that  with  which 
Giuliani  felt  Lill's  arm  resting  on  his,  as  they  left  the 
box.  He  had  quite  forgotten  his  former  respectful  at- 
tention to  Miss  Crumpton.  The  crowd  pressed  her 
closer  to  him ;  he  seemed  never  to  have  lived  till  then. 

"  Ah,  what  a  delightful  evening !"  said  Lill,  as  he 
handed  her  into  the  carriage  ;  "  how  much  obliged  I  am 
to  you,  Mr.  Giuliani !" 

She  did  not  speak  again  for  some  time  after  the  car 
riage  drove  off;  she  was  singing  in  a  whisper,  Ernani 
involavii.     She  stopped  and  said  al)ru])tly, 

"Cousin,  did  you  remember  to  pay  Mr.  Giuliani?" 

"  Yes,  indeed  ;  but,  Lill,  I  could  not  induce  him  to  let 


34  WHO   BREAKS — PATS. 

me  pay  for  the  whole  box  ;  he  said  that  the  half  was  his 
affair,  aud  Mr.  Ponsonby's." 

"  I  was  sure  there  would  be  a  blunder  !  how  vexatious ! 
and  that  stupid  Valeutiue  !"  Lill  stopped,  laughed,  aud 
added,  "How  unjust  I  am,  wreaking  my  vengeance  on 
the  weak  !  I  must  never  ask  Mr.  Giuliani  to  do  commis- 
sions for  me  again." 

And  then  she  nestled  her  head  into  the  downy  cushions 
of  the  carriage,  closed  her  eyes,  and  plunged  into  reveries 
about  Elvira,  the  Doiia  Sol  of  the  tragedy,  and  Ernani. 
The  young  lady's  thoughts,  confused  and  indistinct  as 
thoughts  are  where  one  has  a  perception  of  thinking  at 
once  oftwoorthree  subjects  as  wide  apart  as  the  two  poles, 
might  be  summed  up  as  deciding  that  for  the  sake  of  so 
heroic  and  exclusive  a  lover  as  Ernani,  death  itself  would 
be  welcome.  The  very  young,  for  whom  life  has  more 
pleasures  than  sorrows,  are  nevertheless  always  the  most 
willing  to  die.  They  may  be  said  to  enjoy  a  sad  story. 
The  scene  on  the  terrace,  tiiose  marvellously  tender  ac- 
cents of  love,  stirred  Lill's  heart,  and  sent  her  to  bed 
enthusiastically  devoted  to  Ernani,  to  a  fantastic  unknown 
Ernani,  not  at  all  invested  with  the  features  of  any  one 
she  had  ever  seen. 

Giuliani  and  Valentine  smoked  their  cigars  as  they 
walked  homewards. 

"Who  would  have  suspected  you,"  said  Valentine, 
"  of  being  chosen  a  sfjuire  of  dames  ?" 

"  Nothing  too  strange  for  your  country  women  to  do," 
answered  the  Italian.  "  One  may  expect  from  them  all 
that  is  exquisite,  delicate,  and  charming,  and  just  the 
contrary." 

Valentine's  next  speech  was  interrogative. 

"  She  is  very  beautiful,  is  she  not  ?" 

"  Very." 
•      "Like  a  sylph  or  fairy,"  went  on  Valentine;    "she 
makes  me  uiKicrstand  the  ravings  of  poets  about  beauty." 

"  Precisely  so,"  said  (iiuliaiii. 

And  thus  the  dialogue  continued,  diffuse  on  the  one 
side,  concise  on  the  other. 

Once  siil'e  in  tlie  solitude  of  his  attic.  Ciuliani  gave 
the  rein  to  his  sensations.  Again  the  sweet  sounds  of  the 
uiusic  came  to  his  ear,  dying  away  into  unearthly  melody; 


INCIPIT    VITA    NOVA.  35 

with  closed  eyes  he  aj^ain  saw  Lill,  now  listcninf^,  now 
seeking  his  sympathy ;  he  saw  her  bright  fair  head, 
framed  as  it  were  in  the  crimson  drapery,  saw  the  slender 
round(>d  iwm,  smelt  the  perfume  of  the  rare  flowers  she 
carried  in  her  hand. 

Giuliani  slept  little  that  night  and  dreamed  a  great 
deal.  When  he  got  up  the  next  morning  he  ought  to 
have  said  to  himself:  "  This  day  I  begin  a  new  life."  On 
the  contrary,  he  resolved  more  stronuonsly  than  ever  not 
to  deviate  for  the  future  by  a  hair's  breadth,  froni  his 
monotonous  course  of  life  ;  solitude,  or  rather  retirement, 
was  his  safeguard.  His  judgment  told  him  he  had  been 
right  to  avoid  society — it  had  not  one  temptation,  but  a 
legion,  for  men  in  his  position ;  he  had  need  of  all  his 
self-possession  to  gain  his  livelihood.  Hope  or  desire  of 
cUauge  would  not  do  for  him. 


36  WHO   BREAKS — PATS 


CHAPTER   V. 

Plan  of  Attack  on  the  Hermit  of  the  Rue  de  Berlin. 

"Now  tell  me  something'  about  Mr.  Cinliani.  Colonel 
Calcdou.  Who  is  jSlr.  Giuliani?"  questioned  Miss  Tuf 
ton  some  two  or  three  days  after  the  evening  at  the 
opera. 

'•  To  answer  you  categorically,  Miss  Tufton,  he  is  the 
only  son  of  my  late  good  friend  the  Cavalicrc  Giuliani, 
of  the  counts  of  that  name.  When  his  uncle  dies  this 
Giulio  Giuliani  will  have  a  right  to  both  title  and  estates. 
But  unless  matters  change  considerably  in  Italy,  I  doubt 
much  that  his  situation  would  be  bettered  by  the  count's 
death." 

"  Why  does  his  uncle  allow  him  to  be  an  Italian 
master  ?" 

"  Because  he  is  too  egotistically  timid  to  risk  an  iota  of 
his  own  safety  or  tranquillity  in  behalf  of  any  living  crea- 
ture. Since  the  Cavalicre's  death  I  know  that  there 
has  been  no  communication  between  the  uncle  and  the 
proscribed  nephew;  for  even  Giuliani's  request  foi-  some 
account  of  his  father's  property  was  left  unanswered. 
To  the  demand,  however,  for  an  explanation  made  by  a 
notary,  the  reply  was  clear  enough  —  that  the  cavaliere 
had  spent  all  he  had  on  his  i'oolish  schemes  during  his 
lifetime,  and  that  the  count  did  not  intend  to  continue 
to  his  nephew  the  liberality  he  had  shown  to  his  brother. 
There  was  no  alternative.  Miss 'J'ufton,  but  beggary  or 
work.  Poor  fellow  !  I  remember  him  a  little  lad,  with 
an  arm  and  hand  scarcely  larger  than  yours,  fighting  by 
his  father's-side,  always  with  eyes  on  the  watch,  as  if  ho 
would  take  all  the  shots  and  bayonet  thrusts  to  him- 

BClf." 

"  How  hard  he  looks  now,  as  if  lie  had  never  known 
what  it  was  to  be  a  child  !"  observed  Lill,  the  brightness 
of  lier  face  dimmed  l)y  the  images  called  up  by  tho 
Colonel's  story. 

"AVell,  I  allow  he  has  a  stiCF  character,  l)ut  it  is  o( 
good  nuitcrial." 

"Miss  Tufton,"  said  Mrs.  Caledon,  "why  don't  you 


THE   HERMIT    OF    THE    RUB    DE    BERLIN.  31 

take  some  lessons  from  him  ?  if  you  set  the  fashion,  you 
might  make  his  fortune." 

"  Oh,  dear  Mrs.  Caledon,  I  have  not  the  least  turn  for 
learning  lessons." 

"Uut  perhaps  you  have  for  doing  a  kind  action  ;  and 
I  am  sure  you  might  be  of  real  beuetit  to  Giuliani.  He 
is  the  sort  of  person  to  starve  witli  dignity." 

"How  can  you  put  such  horrible  ideas  into  one's 
head  ?  A  gentleman  starving  in  our  very  sight !"  ex- 
claimed Lill  impetuously.  She  had  suddenly  remem- 
bered that  to  satisfy  her  whim  she  had  made  Giuliani 
pay  for  an  opera  ticket,  and  it  gave  her  a  spasm  of  re- 
morse, the  cause  of  which  had  it  been  known  to  her 
listeners,  would  have  made  her  vehemence  natural. 

Lilt's  manner  was  accused  generally,  and  not  unjustly 
so,  of  levity ;  it  was  the  mask  both  of  the  diffidence  and 
the  strong  feelings  she  was  too  proud  to  show.  Masters 
and  governesses  had  made  her  accomplished ;  Nature 
had  gifted  her  with  quick  intelligence ;  but  her  educa- 
tion had  left  her  character  thoroughly  undisciplined. 
She  acted  first  and  thought  afterwards  ;  sometimes  mani- 
festing the  simplicity  and  candour  of  a  child,  at  other 
moments  displaying  a  perspicacity  that  completely  effaced 
the  favourable  impression  made  by  her  artlessness,  the 
which  forthwith  received  condemnation,  as  assumed. 
The  perpetual  contrasts  of  her  moods  and  manners  had 
earned  for  her  much  of  the  severity  with  which  she  was 
judged.  It  was  the  penalty  she  paid  for  keeping  her 
judges  in  suspense  as  to  what  she  was.  Her  best  friends 
declared,  "  She  must  always  be  in  one  scrape  or  another." 
Lill  herself  used  to  say,  "  Do  what  I  will,  people  will 
always  see  some  evil  in  it.  I  wish  I  had  a  glass  window 
to  my  heart,  that  my  motives  might  be  seen ;  but  no,  it 
doesn't  matter  after  all."  Such  a  speech  as  this  would 
of  course  be  made  after  she  had  been  wounded  to  the 
quick  by  some  misconstruction  of  her  action  or  her 
meaning. 

Lill  had  never  had  a  maternal  wing  to  shelter  hci 
from  the  inclemencies  of  a  world  she  fancied  she  knew 
thoroughly  at  eighteen,  while,  poor  child,  she  scarcely 
ever  got  a  glimpse  of  reality  for  the  tremulous,  translu- 
cent light  of  imagination,  through  which  she  viewed  all 

4 


38  WHO  BREAKS — PAYS. 

thinsrs.  Miss  Crumpton,  Imng  so  close  to  Lill,  had 
iudeed  acquired  an  idea,  though  a  ''dry  misty  one,  that 
a  romancer  was  to  be  dreaded  in  her,  whom  others 
esteemed  only  to  be  a  pretty  worldling.  Lill  was  really 
alarmingly  impressible,  both  as  to  moral  and  ])hysical 
influences.  What  she  was  in  the  atmosphere  of  Sir  Mark, 
would  be  the  opposite  to  what  she  would  be  in  that  of 
Lady  Ponsonby,  or  any  one  like  her  ladyship.  It  seemed 
to  most  of  those  who  knew  her  that  she  was  either  obsti- 
nate or  yielding,  gay  or  violent,  from  mere  caprice. 
This  supposition  it  was  which  brought  her  the  chilling 
rebuffs  she  met,  when  after  some  terrible  outbreak  or 
rebellion  she  sought  to  be  forgiven  by  the  most  passion- 
ate repentance.  Her  nurse  was  one  of  the  few  who  be- 
lieved in  Lill's  goodness,  though  even  she  expressed  her 
opinion  by  the  proverb,  "  Miss  Tufton  is  one  that  will 
either  make  a  spoon  or  spoil  a  horn." 

This  startlish,  high-blooded,  generous  young  mortal, 
quite  unable  to  guide  herself  along  the  highways  of  life, 
in  great  want  of  snaffle  and  curb,  was  about  to  throw 
herself  violently  into  Mr.  Giuliani's  existence,  and  to 
make  a  terrible  and  irreparable  confusion  there.  She 
set  about  it  in  this  way  —  as  usual,  doing  wrong,  under 
the  conviction  she  was  doing  something  vastly  right. 

On  the  same  day  on  which  she  had  had  the  foregoing 
conversation  with  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Caledon  al)()ut  Mr. 
Giuliani,  when  left  iite-d-tete  after  dinner  with  Miss 
Crumi)ton,  she  began  thus,  — 

"  Crummie,  I  have  a  plan  in  my  head;  now  do  please 
put  away  your  crochet,  and  listen  to  me." 

"Just  wait  till  I  am  at  the  end  of  my  row,  my  dear: 
if  I  lose  my  place,  I  shall  never  find  it  again." 

After  five  minutes  Miss  Cruni])ton  obediently  laid 
aside  lier  work,  and  settled  herself  as  an  auditor. 

"First  of  all,"  said  Lill,  "remember  you  are  to  make 
no  objections.  1  have  thought  over  everything,  and  1 
am  (jiiile  determined  Crummie." 

"  Very  well,  my  love." 

"  I  am  going  to  have  lessons  in  Italian  of  Mr.  Giuli- 
ani," said  Lill,  abruptly,  to  hide,  perhaps,  her  expecta- 
tion of  opposition. 

"  Have  you  spoken  on  the  subject  to  Sir  Mark  ?" 


THE  HERMIT  OF  THE  RUE  DE  BERLIN.       39 

"No,  Crummie,  and  I  am  not  going  to  spoak  to  him; 
■ — there  —  there,  do  not  interrupt  me;  I  have  all  my 
phxns  traced  out  in  my  head.  How  much  is  there  left 
of  the  money  I  gave  you  the  other  day  ?" 

"  Every  franc,  except  what  I  paid  for  our  opera 
tickets." 

"  Then  every  franc  shall  go  for  lessons  in  Italian.  It 
is  the  only  way  I  have  of  making  up  to  Mr.  Giuliani  for 
my  stupid  thoughtlessness.  He  is  a  gentleman,  as  well 
born  as  we  are,  though  he  is  poor  enough  to  be  obliged 
to  teach.  Mrs.  Caledon  says  he  only  gets  three  francs 
a  lesson,  and  1  made  him  spend  the  price  of  half-a-dozen 
lessons  for  my  amusement  —  I  am  so  heedless.  Crum. 
mie,  instead  of  being  in  danger  of  starvation  here,  he 
might  be  living  like  a  nobleman  in  Italy,  if  he  would  re- 
nounce his  political  principles." 
."  Very  sad  indeed,  Lill !" 

"Very  glorious,  you  mean,  cousin  Crumpton.  Are 
you  not  always  raving  and  tearing  your  hair  about  the 
sublimity  of  the  French  emigrants,  Who  lived  by  dress- 
ing hair  and  salads  ?" 

"  For  the  love  of  their  own  legitimate  king,  my  dear : 
it  was  the  sacrifice  made  in  behalf  of  their  affection  for 
the  Bourbons,  that  I  so  admire.  I  hate  republicans ; 
and,  as  far  as  I  can  understand,  that  is  what  these  Italian 
refugees  are.  I  do  know  something  about  them,  my 
dear." 

"  No,  you  dou't,  Crummie.  The  Italians  are  not  all 
of  them  republicans ;  but  they  all  want  to  get  rid  of 
those  horrid  Austrians.  Mrs.  Caledon  explained  the 
matter  to  me  ;  and  if  the  French  were  in  England,  I 
suppose  you  would  not  consider  it  a  crime  if  we  tried  to 
turn  them  out ;  however,  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  my 
present  plan.  I  have  never  done  any  good  to  any  one 
in  my  life,  and  now  I  am  going  to  try  to  do  some.  I 
shall  have  lessons  from  Mr.  Giuliani." 

The  young  beauty  spoke  authoritatively,  but  she 
looked  pleadingly  at  her  chaperone. 

"  I  can't  think  how  you  are  to  manage  with  Sir  Mark," 
said  Miss  Crumpton,  yielding  to  her  imperative,  loving 
and  lovely  darling. 

"But, Crummie,  suppose  he  never  knows  of  it  till  too 


40  WHO  BREAKS — PAYS. 

late.  1  mean  to  wait  till  he  goes  to  England  to  receivo 
bis  dear  dividends  :  he  will  go  directly  after  New  Year's 
day,  and  then  I'll  begin  my  lessons.  I  dare  say  we  shall 
have  a  fight  when  he  comes  back  ;  but  he  won't  be  able 
to  prevent  what's  done.  I  shall  pay  in  advance,  you 
know ;  so  Mr.  Giuliani  will  benefit,  even  if  the  lessons 
are  stopped.  There  now,  Crummie,  you  see  it's  all  nicely 
arranged,  so  don't  look  dismayed.  If  I  have  never 
minded  Sir  Mark's  rage  when  I  was  wrong,  it's  not 
likely  I  shall  do  so  when  I  am  sure  I  am  right." 


DIFFERENT   IMPRESSIONS.  41 

CHAPTER    YI. 

Different  Impressions, 

A  WEEK  before  Christmas  the  English  in  Paris  got  up 
a  bazaar  for  the  benefit  of  their  poor  countrymen.  Lady 
Ponsouby,  Giuliani's  friend,  had  been  persuaded  to  allow 
her  name  to  be  put  down  among  the  patronesses,  of  whom 
Mrs.  Caledon  was  also  one.  Miss  Tufton  had  consented 
to  have  a  stall  with  Miss  Crumpton  for  chaperone,  but 
no  earthly  power  could  have  induced  Alicia,  Lady  Pon- 
sonby's  only  daughter,  to  undertake  any  similar  office. 

At  this  bazaar  took  place  what  Valentine  had  so  long 
striven  to  accomplish,  that  is,  the  introduction  of  his 
goddess  to  his  mother  and  sister. 

Lady  Ponsonby  was  difficult  of  access  to  the  rich,  the 
fashionable,  and  the  gay;  the  habits  of  the  children  of 
fortune  jarred  with  hers,  and  having  been  once  in  her 
life  nearly  mentally  suffocated  by  the  despotism  of  cus- 
tom, she  had  ever  afterwards  retained  a  nervous  dread 
of  slipping  again  under  such  a  yoke.  What  she  had 
hitherto  heard  of  Sir  Mark,  had  made  her  strenuously 
avoid  complying  with  Valentine's  wish,  that  she  should 
call  on  Miss  Tufton.  But  within  the  last  week  or  two, 
both  she  and  Alicia  had  become  more  and  more  curious 
to  see  Sir  Mark's  granddaughter. 

"  That  is  Miss  Tufton,  I  suppose,"  said  Lady  Pon- 
sonby to  Valentine,  as  they  were  making  the  tour  of  the 
)>azaar ;  "  she  reminds  me  of  a  rosebud  sparkling  with 
dew.     I  never  saw  anything  more  fresh  and  fair." 

Lill  certainly  had  not  overheard  these  words  of  ad- 
miration, but  as  her  eyes  met  those  of  Lady  Ponsonby, 
she  smiled.  The  old  lady  and  the  young  one  were  im- 
mediately drawn  towards  each  other ;  any  formal 
introduction  was  scarcely  needed  between  them.  Valen- 
tine was  in  the  seventh  heaven  of  contentment.  But  the 
same  magnet  that  forcibly  attracts  one  object  fails  with 
another.  Alicia  examined  Lill  with  curiosity — a  curiosity 
that  had  something  of  disquiet  in  it.  She  received  a 
deep  and  lasting  impression  of  Lill's  beauty  and  grace ; 
she  even  exaggerated  both  to  herself;  her  sensations 

4* 


42  'Wno  BREAKS — PAYS. 

were  profounder  than  the  occasion  seemed  to  warrant, 
while  Lill's  observations  as  to  her,  were  merely  that  she 
was  not  half  so  agreeable-looking  as  Lady  Ponsunhy. 
By  some  unaccountable  association  of  ideas,  as  Alicia 
looked  at  Lill,  these  lines  of  Coleridge  sprang  out  oi 
her  memory, — 

"  Her  lips  were  red,  her  looks  were  free, 
Her  locks  were  yellow  as  gold, 
Her  flesh  made  the  still  air  coid." 

And  yet  Lill  might  have  been  taken  for  the  very  im- 
personation of  glee ;  it  would  have  been  considered  an 
absurdity  had  Alicia  mentioned  to  any  one  the  lines  the 
sight  of  the  beauty  had  called  to  her  recollection,  and 
which  kept  up  a  ding-dong  in  her  ear.  "  Spirit  of  youth 
and  delijiht,"  Miss  Tufton  was  deemed  by  every  body 
else  present,  one  whose  mere  presence  would  chase  away 
any  thought  of  the  tragedies  of  life. 

After  this,  visits  were  exchanged  between  the  Pon- 
Bonliys  and  Tuftons,  and  a  general  mvitation  given  to 
the  latter  for  Lady  Ponsonby's  Saturday  evenings. 

"A  poor  set  your  new  friends,  Miss  Tufton."  said  Sir 
Mark,  after  a  reference  to  his  baronetage ;  "that old  ruin, 
the  Priory,  at  Bloonificld.  you  recollect,  in  the  next 
jtarish  to  ours,  belongs  to  the  young  baronet.  It's  to  be 
hojjcd  he'll  bring  back  some  rupees  with  him  from  India. 
I  wonder  why  the  old  lady  has  fixed  herself  in  Paris? 
The  daughter  is  a  dumpy — dresses  abominably,  without 
any  style  ;  l)ut  she  has  a  good  line  of  face,  and  a  pair  of 
uncommon  fine  dark  eyes  of  her  own.  Dark  eyes.  Miss 
Tufton,  I  must  confess  1  prefer  to  blue  ones.  1  think  J 
shall  cultivate  Miss  Ponsonby's  acquaintance." 

AVhencver  Sir  Mark  assumed  the  airs  of  a  conquering 
hero,  he  invariably  provoked  a  retdrt  from  Lill. 

"  I  think  it  would  answer  capitally,"  said  she,  laughing, 

"  Wliat  do  you  mean  by  that?"  asked  Sir  Mark,  after 
a  second  of  silence. 

"Tiiat  .Miss  Ponsonby  is  more  of  an  ago  to  suit  you 
than  your  last  flirt,  Hose  Caledon.  I  am  sure  your 
taking  a  fancy  to  some  one  else  would  be  an  immense 
relief  to  poor  liose.  Sir  Mark." 

Sir  Mark,  who  had  been  lolling  at  full  length  on  a  sofa, 
on  hearing  this,  sat  bolt  uj)right. 


DIFFERENT   IMPRESSIONS.  43 

"Pray,  Miss  Crunipton,"  he  said,  "why  do  you  allow 
Miss  'I'uftou  to  be  so  impertinent '!" 

"  Lill,  my  dear,"  said  the  startled  chaperone,  "  you 
Bhould  remember  that  you  are  talking- to  your  grandpapa." 

The  baronet  glared  at  the  fanll-hnder'a  mal  d  ijrupos 
invocatiou  of  his  title  to  veneration. 

"  I  should  remember  Sir  Mark  was  my  grandfather, 
ma'am,  if  he  did  not  hhnself  set  me  the  example  of  for- 
getting that  he  is  such." 

"  Take  care  what  you  are  about,  Miss  Tufton ;  one 
day  or  another  you  may  rue  this  conduct.  When  you 
come  to  ask  me  some  favour,  I  may  show  you  that  I  have 
a  good  memory." 

When  Sir  Mark  had  left  them  alone,  Miss  Crumpton 
began  to  remonstrate  with  Lill. 

"  After  all,  my  dear  girl,  he  has  brought  you  up,  given 
you  a  fine  education,  and  really  is  generous  enough  in 
important  things." 

"  I  acknowledge  I  am  wrong  to  speak  to  him  as  I  do ; 
I  know  I  ought  to  hold  my  tongue  ;  but  the  temptation 
is  too  strong.  You  never  witnessed  as  I  did  the  way  he 
treated  my  dear  grandmamma.  lie  almost  made  her  an 
idiot,  Crummie.  It  was  his  pleasure  to  torment  her,  she 
could  not  eat  or  drink  or  speak  in  peace ;  and  one  day  I 
saw — yes,  I  saw  him  beat  the  poor  feeble  creature.  We 
were  out  in  one  of  the  lanes  near  home,  and  she  stayed 
behind  to  pick  some  blackberries ;  he  came  back  and 
struck  her ;  he  thought  there  was  no  one  to  see  him,  but 
a  young  man  on  horseback  suddenly  came  up,  and  laying 
his  whip  about  Sir  Mark's  shoulders,  shouted  out,  'What 
are  you  hitting  that  woman  for?'  Oh,  how  glad  I  was! 
I  ran  up  and  kissed  the  young  gentleman's  hand,  and 
told  him  I  would  love  him  all  the  days  of  my  life,  and  so 
I  do  and  will.  Besides,  I  am  asliamed  of  Sir  Mark,  I 
am ;  when  Rose  and  other  girls  tell  me  how  he  speaks 
to  them.     The  very  sight  of  him  makes  me  feel  wicked." 

Poor  Miss  Crumpton  was  not  the  one  to  guide  such 

as  Lill  into  the  right  road  to  influence  such  a  man  as  Sir 

Mark.    She  tuas  all  for  compromising  a7id  temporising. 

"  I  believe  I  should  behave  better  to  Sir  Mark,"  had 

Lill  often  said,  "  if  it  were  not  my  interest  to  do  so." 

Whether    in    cousequenco    of   his    granddaughtcr'a 


44  WHO  BREAKS — PATS. 

recomm'3ndation  of  Miss  Ponsonby,  or  from  some  other 
ca])rice,  Sir  Mark  did  not  accompany  Miss  Crumptou 
and  Lill  to  Lady  Pousonby's  on  the  following  Saturday. 
Lill  had  not  the  most  distant  conception  of  such  a  per- 
son as  Lady  Ponsonby ;  had  no  knowledge  of  the  reality 
of  politeness  and  i-espect,  between  members  of  the  same 
family,  such  as  existed  among  the  Ponsonby's.  She  had 
read  uf  such  people  in  novels,  and  liked  to  read  of  them, 
but  she  did  not  believe  that  such  agreeable  pictures 
could  be  drawn  from  real  life.  She  naively  supposed 
that  every  one  was  uncomfortable  at  home. 

Lady  Ponsonby  at  her  receptions  always  sat  in  a 
fauteuil  on  that  side  of  the  fire-place  which  allowed  her 
to  see  her  guests  enter.  She  wore  a  cnp  with  a  broad 
ribbon  brought  into  a  bow  in  front,  masses  of  grey  hair 
curled  over  her  forehead ;  a  frilled  kerchief  of  some 
very  transparent  material,  crossing  over  the  chest  d  la 
Marie  Antoinette,  softened  the  brilliant  lights  of  her 
ladyship's  purple  satin  dress.  In  spite  of  her  real  sim- 
plicity of  tastes  and  character.  Lady  Ponsonby  liked 
elegance,  and  was  elegant,  but  she  had  also  the  rare 
knack  of  dressing  in  accordance  with  her  age — though 
with  her  delicate  features  and  singularly  fresh  complexion, 
combined  with  her  spirited  voice,  retaining  many  of  its 
youthful  tones,  and  her  nuxnner,  which  had  all  the  vivacity 
of  twenty.  Lady  Ponsonby  rather  represented  age  than 
proved  it's  possession.  Yet  she  remembered  seeing  the 
first  Napoleon  as  consul:  "Yes,  indeed,  1  do,"  she 
anxiously  affirmed  to  any  one  who  appeared  to  doubt 
the  fact,  for  Lady  Ponsonby  was  jirond  of  looking  so 
young,  as  of  an  attestation  of  a  well-spent  life,  and  of 
an  easy  conscience.  "The  first  consul  was  walking  in 
the  Llysfee  Bourl)on,  and  T  recollect  being  struck  by  his 
shabby  coat,  with  ravelled  culls:  my  lirst  lesson  not  to 
vahic  people  by  their  fine  clothes,"  added  she. 

It  was  apparent  that  the  lesson  had  not  been  forgotten, 
for  most  of  the  coats  in  her  salon  were  rather  thread- 
bare, and  the  ladies'  dresses  of  less  freshness  than  their 
owners  might  have  desired.  It  was  often  indeed  said 
lliat  liady  Ponsonby  most  evidently  sent  out  into  the 
highways  and  byways  for  lier  guests. 

When    the   uccusation    came    to   her   cars,    she   had 


DIFFERENT   IMPRESSIONS.  45 

laughed  and  said,  "  What  would  you  have  ?  I  caniiot 
interest  myself  for  the  fortunate,  they  do  not  require 
anything  of  me,  and  I  forget  them." 

It  was  under  the  influence  of  such  a  character  tliat 
Alicia  had  been  brought  up;  her  attachment  to  her 
mother  was  a  passion.  Alicia's  afiections  were  less 
diffuse  than  those  of  Lady  Ponsonby  ;  she  was  moi-e  ex- 
clusive in  everything ;  less  of  an  optimist ;  nevertheless 
Alicia  had  enthusiasms,  though  they  were  narrow  and 
one-sided.  Iler  charity  and  toleration  shone  almost 
entirely  upon  the  classes  beneath  her.  She  believed 
sincerely  in  the  poor  being  nearer  to  God  than  the  rich ; 
and  held  to  it,  that  large  possessions  we/e  a  robbery. 


46  vraO  BREAKS — PATS. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Gioberti. 

Altogether  the  coup  d'ocil  of  Lady  Ponsonby's 
drawing-room  rather  startled  our  beauty ;  it  was  quite 
different  from  anything  in  the  way  of  a  party  she  had 
ever  before  seen  ;  and,  to  say  the  truth,  she  felt  herself 
and  her  dress  out  of  place.  Miss  Crumpton,  humble 
and  timid  elsewhere,  had  here  a  scared  curiosity,  such 
as  she  might  have  experienced  if  precipitated  into  a 
menagerie.  A  great  sound  of  conversation  filled  the 
salon  ;  not  at  all  the  hum  of  agreeable  nothings,  but  the 
decided  intonations  of  a  discussion  or  debate  of  interest. 
Lill  slipped  into  a  seat  close  by  Lady  Ponsonby,  while 
Miss  Crumpton  was  accommodated  with  an  arm-chair 
opposite  to  the  ladj'  of  the  house. 

Mr.  Giuliani  was  standing  a  little  to  one  side  of  Lady 
Ponsonby,  in  conversation  with,  or  rather  listening  to,  a 
tall  hirgc-made  man.  Hitherto  Lill  had  only  seen  the 
Italian  with  strangers;  she  did  not  know  what  to  make 
of  him  as  ho  now  appeared.  The  character  of  a  tragedy 
hero  in  which  she  had  clothed  him,  did  not  at  all  har- 
monize with  his  present  cheerful,  eager  face,  or  his  frank 
manner.  She  turned  to  observe  his  interlocutor,  to  seek 
in  him  for  the  cause  of  this  change. 

This  extremely  tall  gentleman's  carriage  was  erect 
and  commanding;  his  fair  complexion,  his  hair  of  a 
light  brown,  soft  and  waving,  parted  on  one  side,  and 
hanging  round  his  neck,  gave  something  of  freshness  to 
his  ajijiearance,  like  that  of  a  boy  just  washed  and 
comi)e(l ;  yet  the  fair  locks  flowed  round  a  broad,  mas- 
sive furehvad,  singularly  ex])ressive  of  a  powerful  in- 
tellect. Lill  also  remarked,  in  the  close  scrutiny 
she  bestowed  on  him,  that  his  hands  were  thrust  into  a 
pair  of  new  white  kid  gloves,  gaping  open,  instead  of 
l)eing  neatly  Imttonod  at  the  wrist,  betokening  haste  and 
carelessness  in  the  minuti;e  of  the  toilet. 

His  marked  accent  proved  him  to  be  an  Italian,  Imt 
novertJK'Iess  his  French  phrases,  delivered  in  a  sonorous, 
wcU-cadeuced  voice,  (lowed  witli  an  abundance,  a  rich 


GIOBERTI.  4'i 

ness,  a  fertility  of  thonght  and  expression,  which  sng- 


where  her  attention  was  tixed,  whispered  to  her  that 
"  that  was  the  great  Giobcrti." 

"  I  never  heard  of  him  before,"  said  Lill ;  "  why  is  he 
great  ?" 

"  Do  not  let  my  sister  hear  you  confess  your  ignorance." 
said  Valentine.  "  Gioberti,  you  know,  is  a  Piedmontese 
exile,  and  a  great  philosopher.  He  has  written  im- 
mensely on  no  end  of  subjects,  among  others  a  book  on 
the  Beautiful.  One  need  not  be  one  of  the  seven  sages 
to  understand  something  about  that,"  added  the  youth 
incidentally,  with  an  expressive  glance  at  the  young 
lady. 

Lill,  who  was  amused  at  the  strange  company,  forgot 
to  check  Valentine  as  she  usually  did  when  he  ventured 
on  being  complimentary.  "  His  most  interesting  writings, 
however,  are  about  the  best  course  to  pursue  in  order  to 
procure  the  independence  of  Italy." 

"  Ah  !  indeed,"  exclaimed  Lill. 

"  But  we  must  listen  to  Gioberti." 

Lill  had  lost  the  beginning  of  the  great  Italian's 
speech;  he  was  now  saying:  "Away  with  political  sects 
and  partial  revolts.  They  retard,  instead  of  hastening, 
our  country's  resurrection.  I  have  shown,  nay,  demon- 
strated beyond  refutation,  as  clearly  as  a  mathematical 
proposition,  that  in  the  Italian  States,  the  interests  of 
princes  and  people  are  identical.  Let  them  unite,  and 
Italy  will  be  at  once  free,  strong  and  independent.  The 
princes  need  not  fear  their  subjects,  but  they  must  meet, 
satisfy,  and  guide  the  aspirations  of  the  populations ; 
then,  governors  and  governed  will  form  one  living  wall, 
impenetrable  to  all  foreign  foes,  each  State  ranged  round 
our  crowning  jewel  —  Rome." 

Alicia,  who  was  standing  by  Gioberti,  turned  impa- 
tiently towards  Giuliani,  as  if  anxious  he  should  speak. 

"  Gioberti,  you  have  forgotten  to  take  into  your  con- 
sideration, Rome's  master,  the  Emperor  of  Austria." 

"No,  no,  caro  Giul'o,  the  star  of  Austria  already 
wanes." 


48  WHO  BREAKS — PAYS. 

"  And  do  you  suppose,"  rejoined  Giuliani,  "  that  our 
relentless  foe  docs  not  understand  as  well  as  you  do, 
that  the  course  you  point  out,  if  effected,  would  be  her 
death-blow  ?  Is  it  to  be  imagined  that  Austria,  who  has 
so  often  clutched  at  what  she  would  fain  tear  from  the 
Papal  States,  and  when  baulked  of  actual  territory,  has 
taken  or  made  pretexts  for  her  repeated  military  occu- 
pations of  the  liomagnas,  has  held  the  Papal  See  as  her 
humble  useful  vassal, — is  it  to  be  imagined,  I  say," 
continued  Giuliani,  with  increasing  energy,  "that  the 
power  which  sees  in  the  brutifying  of  her  own  subjects, 
its  sole  chance  of  safety,  will  not  set  on  foot  armies, 
diplomacy,  intrigues  of  every  description,  to  counteract 
the  working  of  your  noble  pacific  plan,  and  checkmate 
you  at  lastY' 

"  The  power  of  federated  Italy,  strong  in  its  internal 
union,  may  defy  the  world,"  replied  Gioberti,  rolling 
over  the  objection.  Giuliani  smiled,  and  remained 
Bilent ;  he  knew  that  the  ardent  philosopher  was  so  per- 
tinacious and  vehement  in  his  convictions,  as  not  only 
to  over  rule,  but  not  to  hear  an  opposing  argument, 

"  Now,  Monsieur  Gioberti,"  said  Alicia,  "  tell  me  one 
thing." 

The  celebrated  author  turned  upon  her  a  kindly,  conr- 
teous,  and  inquiring  look. 

"  You  talk  of  the  union  of  princes  with  their  subjects; 
do  you  think  that  Charles  Albert,  with  his  deplorable 
antecedents,  could  ever  bring  his  mind  to  give  freedom 
to  his  people?" 

"I  do  hope  it,"  replied  Gioberti,  "In  spite  of  his 
crooked  ways,  and  of  many  a  dark  shade  on  his  past, 
tliere  runs  throiigh  his  character  a  noble  chord,  which 
does  vibrate  strongly  at  times.  Has  not  Goetlie  written, 
'  If  you  would  improve  men,  address  them  rather  as  if 
already  such  as  you  wish  them  to  become,  than  such  ao 
you  see  they  actually  are.'  This  thought  dictated 
many  passages  in  my  works  ])ointed  at  ('liarles  Allicrt. 
'J'he  same  idea  it  was,  which  induced  me  formerly,  thongh 
with  less  hoi)e  of  success,  to  make  honourable  montiou 
of  the  Jesuits,  ('ould  we  liave  won  their  assistance  it 
Would  have  greatly  helped  us." 

"The   Jesuits  1"     ciclaimed    Giuliani;     "surely   the 


'     GIOBERTl.  49 

tlwughts  of  enlisting  them  in  our  cause  must  have 
occurred  when  you  were  composiug  your  worlv  on  tlie 
supernatural." 

The  author  smiled  an  abstracted  smile  at  this  sally ; 
and  then,  gathering  up  the  reins  of  his  thoughts,  set  off 
at  an  easy  pace  along  the  track  into  which  he  had  been 
just  turned. 

"It  is  a  singular  thing,"  he  said,  "how  few  of  even 
the  most  intelligent  men  are  disposed  to  consider  one 
simple  fact,  from  which,  however,  flow  endless  logical 
and  practical  deductions,  and  this  is,  that  we  cannot 
make  of  the  world  a  tabula  rasa,  upon  which  to  begin 
our  operations.  Let  us  first  choose  a  righteous  cause, 
and  then  hold  steadfastly  to  it ;  we  can  only  take  for 
the  combat  such  weapons  as  are  within  our  reach ;  if 
these  break  in  our  liands,  why  then  we  must  look  out  for 
others.     In  this  lies  the  grea't  art  of  statesmanship. 

"Now  the  Jesuits  are  a  powerful  body,  and  in  their 
day  have  done  some  good  service  in  the  world.  No  set 
of  men  have  more  extended  ramifications.  Their  aid 
■would  have  been  profitable;  though  truly,  I  did  not 
much  flatter  myself  I  should  achieve  this  object;  still, 
it  was  not  a  chance  to  throw  away.  But  if  I  have  given 
some  praise  to  the  Jesuits  as  they  once  were,  I  am  at 
present  busy  on  a  work  showing  them  as  they  now  are. 
Even  you,  my  dear  Giulio,  will  be  satisfied  with  my 
GtiNuild  Moderno." 

Turning  to  Alicia,  whose  question  he  again  took  up, 
he  added  :  — 

"With  respect  to  Charles  Albert,  I  am  much  more 
sanguine.  I  know  the  man  well  —  know  him  personally ; 
and,  in  spite  of  his  powers  of  dissimulation,  in  which 
none  exceed  him,  and  of  his  simulation,  a  still  rarer 
talent,  in  which  he  also  excels,  —  I  repeat,  that  there 
are  in  his  soul  redeeming  aspirations,  and  in  the  inner- 
most  recesses  of  his  heart  burns  an  undying  hatred  of 
Austria.  I  should  not  wonder  any  day  to  sec  hhn  draw 
his  sword  in  chivalrous  devotion  to  Italy's  cause." 


60  WHO  BREAKS — ^-ATa 

CHAPTER    YIII. 

"The  Arrow  and  the   Song.' 

Lady  Ponsonbt,  who  had  been  amused  by  the  puzzled 
face  of  her  young  guest,  now  diverted  Lill's  attention 
from  the  political  trio,  by  observing,  — 

"  I  am  afraid  this  is  very  dull  work  for  you,  Miss  Tuf. 
ton" 

"  Harder  work,  Lady  Ponsonby,  than  I  generally  find 
in  society:  usually  it  is  talk,  talk,  talk,  for  talk's  sake, 
is  it  not?  at  least  to  girls.  I  think  I  never  before  re 
ceivod  so  many  new  ideas  at  one  time." 

"  Even  that  is  tiring,"  said  Lady  Ponsonby.  "  I  shall 
stop  the  discussion  by  asking  Mdlle.  Arseuieff  for  some 
music.  She  is  a  fine  performer,  and  a  strangely  inde- 
pendent girl.  She  had  the  courage  to  leave  her  family 
in  Moscow,  and  to  come  alone  to  Paris,  to  commence 
the  career  of  a  concert  player." 

"  I  begin  to  think,"  said  Lill,  "  that  every  one  here  has 
an  i!jtercsting  story  attached  to  them." 

liady  Ponsonby  smiled. 

"  Do  you  imagine  that  to  be  a  peculiarity  attached 
only  to  some  people  ?  But  my  Russian's  story  is  very 
simple ;  I  will  tell  it  to  you  some  day." 

Lill  followed  Lady  Ponsonby  across  the  room  to 
where  the  Russian  girl  was  seated,  bhio-oycd,  l»road- 
faced,  and  broad-shouldered,  as  if  physically  prepared 
to  buffet  through  the  world.  She  had  also  a  gay, 
unceremonious  manner,  too  much  so,  to  be  pleasant  to 
Miss  Tufton. 

Mdlie  Arsenieff  wauld  play  very  Avillingly:  what 
should  it  be  ?  She  would  ask  re  hon  cher  excellent  Gi'w- 
h'nvi,  and  away  went  the  Russian  to  where  the  two 
Italians  wore  staudiug. 

Lill  involunliirily  watched  fiiuliaui's  face  and  manner 
when  Mdlle  Arscniclf  addressed  him  in  her  free  and 
easy  style.  There  was  not  the  least  show  of  backward- 
ness in  his  reply,  no  reserve. 

"  1  thought  he  had  been  a  man  of  more  refiuenuMit  llian 
to  be  pleased,  as  he  looks  to  be,  with  so  coarse  a  person." 


"the  akrow  A\n  the  rokg."  51 

diiiliani,  al'tcr  handiuq'  Mdlle.  ArsenieH"  to  the  piano, 
placed  liimsolf  behind  Miss  Tui'ton's  chair,  saying,  in  a 
low  voice ; 

"Tlie  ])erformor  is  a  pupil  of  Chopin's.  She  is  an  ad- 
mirable pianist,  thoug-h  no  one  can  ever  give  the  same 
cHect  to  Chopin's  music  that  he  does  himself." 

Tlie  beauty  of  the  performance  was  marred,  however, 
by  the  jerking  of  a  chair,  which  always  seemed  to  occur 
in  the  softest  passages. 

"We  must  bear  it  jDliilosophically,"  said  Giuliani,  re- 
marking Lill's  annoyance.  "  The  noise  proceeds  from 
INIdme.  de  Rochcpont  de  Rivifere's  chair ;  and  she  is  a 
lady,  as  her  name  may  inform  you,  of  the  French  aris- 
tocracy, connected  besides,  with  some  of  the  first  families 
of  England." 

"  She  looks  disagreeable  enough  for  anything."  said 
Tjill  ;  "  I  have  been  pitying  my  cousin  Crumpton  for 
having  to  sit  near  so  forbidding  a  looking  person.  I 
cannot  fancy  her  being  one  of  Lady  Ponsonby's  friends." 

"  She  was  a  playfellow  of  Lady  Ponsonby's,  and  Lady 
Ponsonby  forgives  her  now  for  being  so  disagreeable, 
because,  in  spite  of  her  pretensions,  Mdmo.  de  Rochepout 
de  Rivibre  is  really  very  poor  and  neglected." 

"  1  have  taken  a  great  liking  to  Lady  Ponsonby,"  re- 
plied Lill.  "  I  think  I  never  saw  before  such  a  pleasant, 
pretty  old  lady;  and  when  old  ladies  are  nice,  they  are 
V'jry  deligl'.tful." 

Giuliani  smiled  on  the  speaker. 

"Are  you  a  believer  in  mesmerism?"  asked  Lill,  a 
moment  after. 

"  In  magnetic  sleep  ?  yes,"  he  replied. 

"  Ah  I  but  I  mean  in  the  tacit  power  one  person  hag 
over  another."  As  he  did  not  answer  immediately,  she 
went  on  :  "  I  assure  you,  when  I  am  with  some  people.  I 
feel  nonsensical  and  naughty;  with  Lady  Ponsonby, 
I  think  I  might  grow  reasonable  and  tolerably  good." 

Giuliani  still  paused.  He  knew  well  enough  that  in 
the  best  kind  of  women  there  is  much  of  the  ingenuous- 
ness of  the  child.  But  was  not  Miss  Tufton  rather  of 
the  stuff"  of  which  w^omcn  of  the  world  are  made  ?  It 
was,  however,  diOicult  to  be  a  severe  judge  of  the  pretty 
bright  creature  addressing  him  in  so  cordial  u  uuinner 


52  WHO  BREAKS — PATS. 

Looking  at  her,  he  literally  spoke  his  thoughts,  when  he 
said, — • 

"  You  give  me  the  impression,  notwithstanding  youi 
confession,  of  being  a  child  of  light." 

"  Now,  Mr.  Giuliani,  I  don't  believe  that  you  are  sin- 
cere in  saving  so." 

"  Indeed  !  and  why  not  ?" 

"  First,  because  you  had  such  an  emjihatic  way  of  ex- 
plaining lohy  Lady  Ponsonby  asked  madamc  with  the 
double  'd,'  which  meant,  don't  imagine  it's  on  account 
of  her  birth  or  her  title,  as  would  be  tlie  case  with  Miss 
Tufton ;  and  secondly,  because  1  read  in  your  face  when 
I  avowed  howim]iressible  I  was — that  you  were  inclined 
to  say.  Exactly  so — most  women  have  no  cliaracters 
at  all." 

Giuliani  this  time  laughed  out,  and  Lill  joined  in 
merrily. 

The  unexplainiMl  laughter  of  two  persons  is  very  apt 
to  produce  a  sudden,  uneasy  quietness  in  a  party.  This 
was  the  case  just  now.  Every  eye  in  the  room  fixed 
itself  on  Lill  and  Giuliani;  even  Lady  Ponsonby,  who 
had  been  talking  to  the  Russian  girl,  turned  round  to 
see  what  had  ]ia|)pened. 

"Do  you  play  or  sing.  Miss  Tufton?"  asked  her  lady- 
ship, breaking  the  silence. 

Lill's  face  put  on  the  little  air  of  wonderment  which 
that  of  Sontag  or  Grisi  might  have  worn  at  a  similar 
question.  How  strange  that  she,  whose  song  had  been  a 
matter  of  state,  wherever  she  went,  should  have  such  an 
iufjuiry  put  to  her  I  With  a  little  bridling  of  her  slender 
neck,  she  answered  "yes,"  that  slie  ])layed  and  sang. 

"Then  you  will  be  so  good,  perhaps,  as  to  favour  us," 
said  Lady  Ponsonby,  laying  her  hand  caressingly  on 
Lill's  shoulder. 

Accustomed  to  singing  to  strangers,  the  young  lady 
walked  without  further  ])ressing  to  the  piano.  The  very 
first  lou<'h  of  her  lingers  showed  familiarity  with  the  in- 
strument. 8he  ])layc(l  the  symphony  of  a  well-known 
Italian  air,  ])aused,  and  said  with  graceful  bashfulness, 

"  I  (hurt  think  I  Inive  (Miurage  to  venture  on  Italian 
iniisi(-  lieforo  so  many  Italians.  May  i  sing  au  English 
ballad  ?" 


THE 


53 


"  On  the  contrary,  pray  do,"  said  Lady  Ponsonby ; 
''it  is  so  long  since  I  have  heard  an  English  song — not 
since  my  dear  boy,  Fred,  left  nie.  Oh,  what  a  voice  his 
was  !"  sighed  the  mother. 

"THE  ARROW  AND  THE  SONG. 

"I  shot  an  arrow  into  the  air, 
It  fell  to  earth,  I  knew  not  whore  ; 
For,  so  swiftly  it  flew,  the  sight 
Could  not  follow  it  in  its  flight 

"  I  breathed  a  song  into  the  air, 
It  fell  to  earth,  I  km-w  not  whore  ; 
For  who  has  sight  so  keen  and  strong. 
That  it  can  follow  the  flight  of  a  song  ? 

"LoD<;,  lonfi;  afterward,  in  an  oak 
I  found  the  arrow,  still  unhroke," 
And  the  ?ong,  from  beginning  to  end, 
I  found  again  in  the  heart  of  a  friend." 

Longfellow. 

Lill  had  a  true,  beautiful  voice— one  of  those  voices 
which  unconsciously  brings  tears  of  ecstasy  to  every 
eye,  and  swells  the  poet's  heart  with  a  sense  of  infinite 
beauty,  as  he  traces  in  its  modulations  his  own  unspeak- 
able feelings. 

In  this  way  did  the  tones  of  Lill's  voice  strike  on 
Giuliani's  soul,  making  its  every  chord  vibrate.  They 
bore  him  up  to  heaven,  then  brought  him  back  to  earth. 
He  was  under  the  same  spell  that  nuikes  the  foot-sore, 
hungry  soldier  forget  pain  and  fatigue,  and  welcome 
danger. 

Lady  Ponsonby,  who  had  an  organization  almost  as 
keenly  alive  to  music  as  her  Italian  friend's,  hung  en- 
tranced upon  Lill's  every  note.  She  gave  a  deep  sigh 
when  the  last  sound  died  away,  and  said,  with  glittering 
eyes,— 

"  You  have  touched  a  spring  I  believed  had  gone  dry. 
You  are  a  gifted  creature,  my  dear  child ;  excuse  me,  I 
can't  resist  calling  you  so." 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  are  pleased  :  pray  call  me  anything 
you  like,  except  Miss  Tufton.  My  name  is  Lilian,  but 
I  am  called  Lill,  and  sometimes  Espifegle." 

The  little  triumph  had  been  complete.  Gioberti  had 
been  silent,  and  Mdme.  do  Rochcpont  de  Eivi6re  had 
kept  her  chair  and  footstool  quiet. 

.  5* 


54  WHO  BREAKS — PAYS. 

Alicia  sat  down  by  Miss  Crurapton,  and  spoke  witli 
admiration  of  Miss  Tiifton's  voice,  and  licr  stylo  of  slw^ 
ing.  Alicia's  nature  had  not  hecu  stirred  as  had  been 
that  of  her  mother  and  Giuliani.  Her  ear  might  be 
duller,  or  there  might  be  some  counteracting  charm  to 
Lill's  attraction  M-hich  sealed  up  the  doors  of  her  soul 
to  harmony. 

Miss  Crumpton  thawed  under  Alicia's  praise  of  Lill, 
and  said, — 

"  She  is  so  clever,  does  everything  so  well,  reads  con- 
stantly; indeed,  it  is  a  sad  pity  she  has  not  a  better 
companion  than  I  am.  I  wonder  she  has  patience 
with  nie." 

'J'his  humility  roused  Alicia's  generosity.  She  had 
hitherto  held  aloof  from  the  elderly  English  woman,  sup- 
posing her  to  be  one  of  the  proud  of  this  earth,  who 
take  to  themselves  the  credit  of  being  the  salt  thereof. 
But  now,  penetrating  at  once  Miss  Crumpton's  nature, 
she  saw  in  her  one  born  to  live  in  another— to  have  no 
great  joys  or  miseries  of  her  own,  but  to  rejoice  or 
lament  with  those  of  the  object  of  her  worship.  Preju- 
diced, probably,  and  narrow-minded,  not  likely  to  ])rove 
a  wise  friend,  but  most  surely  a  warm  and  devoti'd  ad- 
herent, whatever  backwardness  Alicia  might  feel  tcnvards 
Lill  herself,  she  had  none  in  encouraging  Miss  Crumjiton 
to  converse  about  her,  and  she  succeeded  in  making  the 
chaperone  better  satistied  with  her  hostesses  and  the 
company  assembled,  than  she  had  been  before. 

Lill  and  Miss  Crumpton  were  the  first  to  leave. 
Gioberti  did  Lill  the  honour  to  hand  her  downstairs  to 
the  carriage.  The  young  lady  had  no  idea  how  proud 
she  ought  to  have  been  at  having  induced  the  great 
Italian  to  cease  his  eloquence  to  l)ecome  her  cavalier. 

Once  the  English  strangers  gone,  there  ensued  a  tor- 
rent of  questions  about  thera.  Lill  naturally  was  the 
one  on  whom  the  conversation  ])riiicipaliy  ran.  Evea 
under  Lady  Punsonl)y'8  roof  jx'ople  would  i)ull  one 
another  to  pieces,  and,  as  the  English  girl  was  indubita- 
bly lovely,  graceful,  and  accom})lislied,  the  only  weak 
])(iint.  her  dress,  was  where  the  assiuUt  was  made. 

"  Ignorance  of  French  hai)its."  ])lea(l('d  I>ady  INm- 
Bonby.     "  in  England,  my  dear  friends,  it  is  pretty  nnich 


"  THE    ARROW    AND    THE    SONG."  55 

the  custom  for  young  ladies  to  wear  low  dresses  and 
short  sleeves  every  day  at  dinner.  Abuse  the  customs 
of  a  country  if  you  like,  but  spare  individuals." 

"Always  indulgent,  dear  lady!"  exclaimed  Mdlle. 
Arsenieff,  in  her  bold  clear  voice  ;  then  sinking  it  to  a 
whisper,  she  said  to  Alicia,  "  It  appears  to  me  that  the 
ice  of  our  llippolytus  is  melting  under  the  sunny  glances 
of  this  daughter  of  Albion." 

"  You  see  even  the  philosopher  par  excellence  was 
charmed  out  of  himself  by  her  beauty  and  her  singing," 
returned  Alicia. 

"  Ilm  !  hm  !"  thought  the  Russian,  "  we  have  a  brave 
heart  of  our  own,  but  we  are  less  indifferent  than  we 
would  appear." 

How  strange  it  is  that  women  so  often  strive  to  wound, 
in  order  to  track  out  a  secret  of  the  heart;  and  that,  too, 
when  it  iu  no  way  concerns  themselves. 


56  VTHO  BREAKS — FATS. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Uncommon  Domestic  Scenes. 

LiLL,  when  she  went  home,  wondered  whj  the  impres- 
sion left  by  the  evening  was  unsatisfactory,  .vhy  she  felt 
as  though  she  had  met  with  a  disap])ointment.  She 
needed  not  to  have  wondered  long,  had  she  chosen  to 
take  the  trouble  to  look  a  little  closely  at  the  image  the 
most  prominent  in  her  mind. 

For  Lill,  mankind  was  divided  into  two  species — • 
sheep  and  goats — into  the  good  and  bad.  She  could 
suppose  no  faults  in  those  she  liked,  no  virtues  in  those 
she  disliked.  Hitherto  she  had  decided  at  first  sight 
into  which  category  to  j)lace  her  acquaintances.  The 
Italian  master  was  the  first  person  she  had  seen  who 
left  her  undetermined  where  to  put  him.  His  appearance 
did  not  prejudice  her  in  his  favour,  there  was  too  great 
an  absence  of  symmetry  about  him.  Her  imagination, 
however,  had  been  set  at  work  by  the  history  given  of 
him  by  Mrs.  Caledon  and  Valentine  Ponsonby.  Lill 
could  not  hear  of  or  see  anything  like  persecution  with- 
out coming  forward  as  a  zealous  champion  of  the  perse- 
cuted. Once,  in  London,  she  had  run  into  the  street 
before  Sir  Mark's  house,  bareheaded,  to  take  the  i)art  of 
a  little  urchin  against  a  big  boy.  Another  time,  in  Paris, 
she  had  stopped  to  upbraid  a  carter  for  ill-using  his 
horse.  Feminine  to  cowardice  by  character,  she  was 
bold  as  Don  (iui.xote  where  there  was  a  wrong  towards 
another  to  redress.  It  was  the  indelible  recollection 
made  by  the  ill-usage  received  by  her  timid  grandmother 
from  Sir  Mark,  which  rendered  lier  so  rebellious  to  him. 

Well,  tlie  first  night  Lill  met  the  Kalian,  her  vanity  had 
been  tickled  by  his  strong,  undisguised  admiration,  very 
dilferent  from  lhe/o(/e,  covert  gallant  glances  her  beauty 
had  hitherto  reaped.  Then  her  generous  feelings  had 
been  called  into  play,  and  she  had  intended  to  patronize 
and  protect  this  unfortunate  e.\iie. 

Now  this  evening  it  seemed  to  lier  as  if  he  were  not 
unhajipy,  and  not  in  the  least  in  want  of  protection — 
had  seemed  as  if  he  wished  to  give  her  to  understand 


UNCOMMON    DOMESTIC    SCKNKS.  57 

that  his  friends,  the  Ponsonbj-s,  were  her  superiors,  and 
every  other  person's  superiors.  Lill  went  to  bed  not 
at  all  certain  that  she  should  try  to  make  Mr.  Giuliani 
the  i'ashion.  How  was  she  to  guess  that  the  Italian  had 
acted  on  a  well-digested  plan  ? 

Giuliani  was  not  the  man  to  be  overtaken  unawares 
by  a  passion.  lie  discovered  that  he  was  on  the  point 
of  falling  desperately  in  love  with  Miss  Tufton,  against 
his  judgment  of  her  character.  This,  together  with  a 
conscientious  horror  of  ever  bringing  her  into  contac* 
with  his  poverty,  weighed  more  with  liim  than  any  idei 
of  an  im})assable  barrier  of  rank  between  them,  llki 
knew  also  that  it  was  only  by  ari'csting  his  course  noi  , 
he  could  save  himself;  one  step  forwards,  and  hew^s 
over  the  precipice.  His  clear-sightedness  on  the  <  ;ie 
side,  and  Lady  Ponsonby's  perce{)tion  of  the  coolnesb  of 
her  daughter's  feelings  towards  Lill,  served  to  check  (lie 
acquaintance  from  ripening  into  any  intimacy.  Nor  did 
Sir  Mark  help  it  on,  by  cultivating  a  further  knowledge 
of  Alicia's  fine  dark  eyes. 

It  may  be  well,  in  order  to  explain  somewhat  Sir 
Mark's  strange  and  capricious  temper,  to  say  a  word  or 
two  here  of  his  antecedents. 

The  baronet  had  begun  his  career  with  three  lives  be- 
tween him  and  the  family  tille.  He  had  known  the 
hardships  and  insults  that  attend  a  penniless  young  man's 
d£Jjut  in  the  world  ;  he  had  learned  the  bitter  experiences 
specially  proper  to  a  poor  relation,  and  he  had  sworn  to 
himself  the  day  he  first  entered  a  merchant's  counting- 
house,  where  he  had  had  to  perform  something  very  like  a 
menial  service,  that  one  day  he  would  do  as  much  for 
others  as  had  been  done  to  him.  Each  tyrant  hatches  a 
large  brood  of  his  kind ;  and  sends  them  forth  full  of 
spite  against  the  world,  to  propagate  evil  from  genera- 
tion to  generation.  Sir  Mark  had  plenty  of  strength  of 
will  to  have  been  a  good  man,  as  witness  the  self-control 
which  enabled  him  to  conquer  his  sanguine  temperament 
and  to  live  for  ten  years  the  life  of  an  anchorite,  saving 
and  starving,  in  order  to  secure  the  possession  of  that 
power  which  would  supply  hhn  with  the  means  of  brow- 
beating as  he  had  been  browbeaten.  By  a  succession 
of  lamentable  deaths,  he  suddenly  found  himself  at  the 


58  WHO   BREAKS — PAYS. 

apex  of  his  wishes — rich,  titled,  one  of  the  class  he  had 
BO  long  envied.  He  was  already  married,  and  to  a 
woman  many  years  his  senior,  whose  attraction  for  him 
had  been  her  few  thousand  pounds.  She  wure  the  title 
of  Lady  Tufton  but  a  few  months,  then  died,  leaving  Sir 
Mark  with  a  son  of  five  years  old,  and  more  obliged  to 
her  even  than  he  had  been  when  she  accepted  him.  or 
during  the  many  years  of  her  complete  self-abuegaticni. 

After  this,  Sir  Mark  flourished  like  a  green  bay-tree. 
He  was  free  to  begin  life  again.  Loving  gold  and  rank 
as  he  did,  it  would  have  been  consistent  for  him  to  marry 
now  some  one  possessing  both  these  attributes.  But 
men  are  rarely  consistent  with  themselves  ;  if  they  were, 
the  arts  of  diplomacy  and  of  government  would  be  sim- 
plified. On  the  contrary,  in  speculations  as  to  the  con- 
duct of  persons,  one  must  make  as  many  allowances  fur 
their  vagaries  as  wise  mariners  do  for  those  of  the  com- 
pass ;  so  many  strange,  invisible  influences  attract  men 
and  compasses  from  their  right  point. 

Sir  Mark  took  for  his  second  wife  a  young,  beautiful, 
penniless  girl,  the  daughter  of  his  jeweller.  He  sepa- 
rated her  entirely  from  her  parents,  and  every  member 
of  her  family,  and  treated  her  ill  all  the  rest  of  her  life. 
If  one  dared  to  suppose  such  a  possibility.  Sir  Mark  had 
chosen  her  to  gratify  his  intense  feeling  for  youth  and 
beauty,  and  at  the  same  time  to  have  at  hand  one  so  un- 
protected, on  whom  ho  could  safely  carry  out  the  savage 
vow  made  in  his  poverty.  This  was  the  poor  la<ly  Lill 
called  her  dear  grandmamma,  and  who,  in  fact,  did  sink 
under  Sir  Mark's  treatment  into  gentle  imbecility.  Few 
pitied  l^ady  Tufton ;  her  want  of  resistance  against  the 
preatest  indignity  disgusted,  instead  of  exciting  com- 
passion. 

Poor  thing  1  to  the  clergyman  of  her  parish  and  to 
the  girl  Lill  she  alone  explained  before  her  death,  tliat 
she  had  thus  submitted  because  she  believed  it  to  be  her 
duty  to  do  60  ;  she  had  sworn  obedience,  and  must  keep 
her  oath. 

As  to  Ills  son,  wIk)  continued  to  bo  his  only  child,  Sir 
Mark  dewpised  and  disliked  hini  for  three  reasons  :  the 
boy  wiifi  ])lain,  delicate,  and  terribly  afraid  of  liis  father, 
bir  Mark  put  him  into  the  army,  and  obtained  a  staff 


UNCOMMON    DOMESTIC    SCENES.  59 

appointment  for  him  in  India,  in  order  to  get  him  out  of 
his  sight. 

Captain  Tufton  married  at  Madras,  and,  long  a  hope- 
less sufleror  from  a  hot  climate,  di(>d  before  the  birth  of 
his  child,  recommending  in  a  touciiing  letter  his  young 
widow  to  his  father's  care. 

Mrs.  Tufton  came  to  England,  and  Lill  was  born 
almost  immediately  after  her  arrival.  Sir  Mark  was  at 
first  furious  at  the  sex  of  the  child,  but  he  allowed  the 
widowed  mother  to  remain  at  Wavering,  the  family 
estate.  He  was  never  there  himself  but  during  the 
shooting  season,  and  she  might  as  well  have  the  benefit 
of  a  house  rent-free,  with  the  attendance  of  the  indis- 
pensable servants  he  was  compelled  to  keep ;  besides, 
it  looked  well  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  her  residing 
under  his  roof:  but  she  must  provide  her  own  living; 
to  do  which  he  allowed  her  two  hundred  a  year,  exact- 
ing ligorous  payment  for  the  vegetables  and  fruit  she 
had  from  his  gardens. 

In  the  spring  of  the  year  1832,  young  Mrs.  Tufton 
died,  and  Lill  was  left  to  the  mercy  of  her  grandfather. 

The  child  became  dear  as  the  apple  of  her  eye  to 
Lady  Tufton,  and  awoke  by  her  beauty  and  grace  some 
natural  instincts  of  affection  in  Sir  Mark.  The  baronet 
had  been  remarkably  handsome  himself  when  young,  and 
had  an  unconquerable  antipathy  to  those  devoid  of  good 
looks.  Fancying  he  traced  a  likeness  in  Lill  to  himself, 
he  began  to  notice  and  capriciously  to  indulge  her.  Sir 
Mark,  however,  was  not  formed  for  tenderness ;  there- 
fore, though  he  liked  and  admired  the  little  girl,  he 
could  not  prevent  occasional  outbursts  of  cruelty  even 
towards  her.  One  day  that  he  had  been  more  outrageous 
than  usual  in  his  conduct  to  Lady  Tufton,  Lill  suddenly 
struck  him  with  all  her  baby  strength.  Sir  Mark,  as  a 
punishment,  ordered  her  to  be  let  down  into  a  deep, 
empty  water-butt ;  she  was  not  to  be  taken  out  until  she 
promised  to  ask  his  pardon.  Three,  four,  five  hours 
went  by,  and  no  noise  or  cry  proceeded  from  the  little 
prisoner.  Lady  Tufton  was  ill  with  grief  and  terror,  and 
even  the  baronet  began  to  wish  the  culprit  would  give 
him  an  opportunity  of  relenting.  At  last  he  desired  one 
of  the  gardeners  to  take  a  ladder,  and  see  what  Miss 


(50  WHO  nnKAKS — pays. 

Tut'ton  was  doing'.  Tlio  child  looked  up  sit  the  man,  and 
lang-hed.  There  was  nothing  left  for  Sir  Mark  to  do  but 
to  pretend  forgetfulness  of  the  condition  on  which  she 
was  to'  be  released.  When  she  was  lifted  out  of  the  tub, 
she  was  unable  to  stand,  and  for  weeks  after  lay  a  little 
nuirtyr  to  rheumatic  fever.  She  would  probably  have 
died  before  yielding  to  her  grandfather,  whom  she  do 
Glared  she  wished  to  kill  for  his  cruelty  to  her  dear,  dear 
grandmamma. 

Under  such  influences  did  Lill's  childhood  pass.  In 
her  girlhood  she  was  constantly  spurred  on  to  acquire 
accomplishments,  while  the  atmosphere  she  brcatlied 
w^as  thick  with  the  smoke  of  the  incense  burned  before 
wealth  and  rank. 

When  the  second  Lady  Tufton  died.  Sir  Mark  confided 
his  granddaughter  to  the  charge  of  INIiss  Crumpton — a 
nominal  charge,  as,  from  the  age  of  thirteen,  the  young 
lady  had  managed  her  chaporone.  While  Lill's  distaste 
to  her  grandfather  was  strengthening  every  year,  he  in 
his  way  had  been  making  her  more  and  more  the  object 
of  his  life. 

The  estates  went  with  the  title;  therefore  Lill's 
fortune  could  only  be  what  Sir  Mark  had  made  while 
in  business,  or  what  he  might  economize  out  of  his  i)re- 
sent  large  income.  He  took  to  speculating  at  first,  with 
the  view  of  making  her  an  heiress,  but  this  motive  had 
long  since  lapsed  into  a  secondary  one :  the  old  habit  of 
striving  after  gain  awoke  re-invigorated,  and  to  make 
money  for  money's  sake  became  once  more  the  main 
occupation  of  his  life. 


THE   MOTH  61 

CHAPTER    X. 

The  Moth. 

A  FORTNIGHT  aftcr  the  evening  Lill  had  spent  at  Lad* 
Ponsonby's,  it  was  Christmas,  and  tlie  lioulevards  ol 
Paris,  smothered  by  temporary  booths  and  a  mixed 
dense  multitude,  had  the  air  of  a  country  fair.  The 
shop-windows,  it  nuiy  be  remarked,  were  gayer  than  the 
generality  of  faces  contemplating  them — faces  full  of 
careful  eagerness  to  discover  trinkets  and  knick-knacks 
exactly  to  suit  and  do  honour  to  a  certain  sum  to  be 
applied  to  the  purchase  of  a  number  of  gifts,  considered 
de  rigueur,  whatever  inconvenience  they  might  occasion 
to  the  giver.  The.  Christmas-box  of  England  assumes 
mighty  proportion  when  it  crosses  the  Channel  and  be- 
comes Strennes  Frenchmen,  however,  do  not  grumble 
over  the  change  of  the  petit  cadeau  into  a  heavy  tax  ; 
they  turn  it,  as  they  do. every  other  disaster,  into  a  mat- 
ter for  boast  or  congratulation. 

Amid  a  gay  group  wandering  from  one  bewitching 
window  to  another,  Ciuliani  saw  Lill — not  the  first  time 
by  many  since  I^ady  Ponsonljy's  soir6e.  AVliether  chance 
or  involuntary  purpose  led  him  almost  daily  into  the 
Champs  Elys6es,  he  did  not  investigate.  The  pleasure 
of  a  sight  of  that  lovely  face,  the  realization  of  his  most 
poetic  fancies,  was  at  his  own  cost,  and  therefore  need 
not  trouble  him.  He  knew  how  gay  a  life  she  led ;  in 
the  mornings  driving  or  walking,  in  the  evenings  at 
balls,  concerts,  or  theatres.  Nevertheless  the  sight  of 
her,  who  was  in  search  of  the  most  crude  realities,  always 
sent  him  into  the  land  of  dreams. 

As  he  now  passed  her  on  t^e  Boulevards,  their  eyes 
met,  and  Lill  smiled  cordiallj%  and  gave  him  a  friendly 
nod  of  her  head,  not  a  dry  salute  bidding  you  keep  your 
distance. 

"  How  beautiful  everything  is,  Mr.  Giuliani !"  she  ex- 
claimed. 

That  evening  the  Italian  consulted  Lady  Pnnsonby 
as  to  whether  lie  ought  or  ought  not  to  pay  a  visit  to 
Miss  Tufton.  in  obedience  to  the  French  custom,  which 

6 


62  WHO   BREAKS — PATS. 

at  Christmas  exacts  that  ceremony  from  the  most  dis- 
tant acquaintance. 

"  I  should  be  sorry,"  he  explained,  "  to  be  wanting  in 
any  attention,  and  I  am  sure  Miss  Tufton  would  under- 
stand my  doing  so  as  a  politeness ;  but  that  terrible  old 
gentleman  is  capable  of  taking  it  as  an  insult." 

As  Lady  Ponsonby  hesitated  a  moment,  in  regret  that 
the  moth  would  singe  its  wings,  Alicia  said, — 

"  Suppose  you  and  Valentine  go  together." 

Giuliani  has  a  disinclination  to  accept  what  seemed 
like  protection  in  the  matter,  but  he  curbed  what  he 
knew  to  be  an  undue  susceptibility;  and  it  was  settled 
that  the  two  gentlemen  should  make  their  call  on  the 
following  day. 

"When  Valentine  and  his  Italian  friend  entered  the 
Tufton's  drawing-room,  thoy  found  Lill  surrounded  by  a 
crowd  of  visitors,  and  Giuliani  had  time,  before  she  per- 
ceived iiim,  to  admire  her  ease  of  manner,  her  perfect 
knowledge  of  what  to  do  or  say  on  every  occasion.  Her 
little  bright-haired,  compact  head  was  held  erect  with  a 
domiuaut  air,  as  if  to  take  cognizance  of  all  that  was 
going  on  about  her.  After  a  little,  she  observed  Giuli- 
ani standing  alone  in  the  recess  of  one  of  the  windows, 
Valentine  having  been  accosted  by  an  acquaintance. 
Lill  at  once  made  her  way  to  him,  and  remained  talking 
to  him,  with  a  look  of  interest  meant  to  influence  the 
other  callers ;  just  one  of  the  occasions  when  Lill's  vehe- 
ment nature  led  her  to  over-act  a  part. 

Aunmg  the  persons  present  who  took  most  notice  of 
her  beliaviour  was  Mr.  'J'ufton,  ])resuiMptive  heir  to  Sir 
Mark's  baronetcy  and  estates;  a  very  young  man,  but 
lately  arrived  at  his  majority.  There  was  that  similarity 
of  feature  between  him  and  Lill  which  attnclies  itself  so 
mysteriously  to  persons  of  the  same  original  stock.  As 
a  rule  it  is,  the  same  name,  the  same  ajtpearance. 

A  very  general  remark  on  J'Mward  Tuftdii  was,  "  What 
a  pretty  girl  he  would  have  made  !"  lie  had  the  same 
pure  lily  and  rose  comi)lexion  as  f.ill,  the  same  curly, 
gi'ldcn  hair,  the  same  delicate  nose,  tlie  same  violet  blue 
eyes  ;  the  dill'ereuce  lay  m  the  nu)utli  and  chin  ;  in  Mr.  'I'uf- 
ton  both  these  features  were  as  e\]ires>iv(>  as  ])iissilile 
of  weakness — Ihechiii  sloping  sillily  away  into  his  throat. 


THE    MOTH.  63 

This  yo^^l^  ^^^  the  eldest  son  of  a  certain  Rev.  Ed- 
ward Tufton,  at  whose  vicarage  the  rejoicings  had  been 
great  on  tlie  news  that  Captain  Tufton's  widow  had 
given  birth  to  a  girl  instead  of  the  hoped-for  boy.  The 
vicar  reposed  in  his  own  churchyard,  and  Edward  was 
now  mentioned  in  the  last  Baronetage  as  Sir  Mark's 
probable  heir.  Sir  Marie,  out  of  respect  to  public 
opinion,  had  sent  Mr.  Tufton  to  Oxford,  and  gave  him 
an  allowance  of  three  hundred  a-year,  hating  him  with 
all  the  hatred  due  to  him  for  taking  money  out  of  his 
pocket,  for  not  being  his  bond  fide  grandchild,  and  yet 
his  successor. 

Sir  Mark  had  had  an  idea  of  marrying  a  third  time, 
in  the  hope  of  having  an  heir  of  his  own ;  but  he  had 
grown  old,  suspicious,  and  dilatory ;  besides,  he  was  in- 
clined to  seek  for  a  bride  among  young  and  lovely  girls, 
and  such  hesitated,  not  so  much  on  account  of  his  age, 
as  of  the  reports  circulating  as  to  his  savage  temper 
and  miserly  stinginess. 

Sir  Mark,  at  least  once  every  year,  broached  the  sub- 
ject of  his  marriage,  and  many  were  the  sleepless  nights 
this  probability  gave  Edward's  sensible,  far-seeing  mo- 
ther. It  was  in  obedience  to  maternal  suggestions 
that  Mr.  Tufton  had  come  uninvited  to  spend  the  Christ- 
mas with  Sir  Mark  in  Paris.  He  had,  besides,  an  admi- 
ration in  the  bud  for  lall  —  strong  when  in  her  presence, 
weak  when  out  of  it  —  and  a  further  tendency  to  con- 
sider her  as  part  of  his  inheritance,  if  he  should  so 
choose  it  to  be. 

Lill  and  he  had  been  playfellows,  and  on  her  side  she 
had  that  sort  of  liking  for  him  which  early  companion- 
ship gives.  They  knew  the  same  people,  visited-  at  the 
same  houses,  danced  together,  rode  together,  but  as  for 
ever  having  had  the  most  remote  idea  of  marrying  Sir 
Mark's  heir  presumptive,  Lill  would  sooner  have 
thought  of  a  Siamese  prince.  For  all  her  giddy  ways, 
Lill  had  her  ideal  —  one  she  was  resolved  on  finding,  or 
going  to  her  grave  a  spinster  —  as  wonderful  and  rare 
an  ideal  as  ever  girlish  heart  worshipped  —  a  King 
Arthur,  or  possibly,  as  she  grew  older,  a  Sir  Charles 
Grandison,  but  a  Sir  Charles  who  had  nevt,  had  a  Clem- 
entina episode,  some  one,  at  all  events,  grave,  stately, 


64  WHO  BREAKS — PATS. 

courteous,  as  superior  in  talent  as  in  character  to  the 
rest  of  the  world,  his  only  little  bit  of  weakness  a  pas- 
sionate love  for  her,  which  she  would  reward  by  passion- 
ate worship.  His  word  should  be  her  law;  her  motto, 
"  God  is  thy  law,  thou  mine."  This  was  Lill's  cherished 
dream,  as  she  let  herself  float  unresistingly  into  the 
rapids  of  the  gay  world. 

As  soon  as  the  drawing-room  was  empty  of  visitors 
and  Lill  was  left  with  only  Miss  Crunipton  and  young 
Mr.  Tufton,  she  exclaimed,  as  she  might  have  done  to 
a  brother, — 

"  How  I  wisli,  Edward,  you  would  give  up  using 
that  odious  eye-glass ;  it  makes  you  seem  so  imperti- 
nent." 

Lill  had  been  made  indignant  by  Edward's  having 
fixed  his  glass  in  his  eye,  and  stared  uninterruptedly  at 
be/  and  Mr.  Giuliani,  until  the  latter  took  his  leave. 

"  Give  it  up  !"  retorted  the  young  man  ;  "  why  your 
face  where  you  are  now  standing  appears  merely  a  round 
white  spot  to  me  ;  I  can't  see  a  feature." 

"  Sad  exaggeration  :  I  know  you  were  not  short-sighted 
before  you  went  to  Oxford." 

"  Exactly ;  it  was  the  effect  of  the  midnight  lamp 
which  injured  my  eyesight." 

"  Nonsense ;  it  is  simply  an  affectation,  and  a  very 
disagrccal)le  one." 

Edward  was  lolling  on  a  sofa  during  this  conversation, 
and  Lill  walking  uj)  and  down  the  room. 

The  young  gentleman  did  not  answer  for  a  little,  then 
shi)Uled  out, — 

"  I  know  what  has  made  you  so  cross ;  it  was  because 
I  looked  at  that  Grimgriflinofl"  with  tho  seedy  coat  you 
were  so  taken  up  with.     How  1  hate  foreigners  !" 

"Then  why  do  you  come  among  tliemV"  flashed  out 
Lill.  with  sparkling  eyes;"and  l)eing  an  university  man, 
I  wonder  you  have  not  learned  to  s]ieak  more  correctly; 
we  ourselves  are  the  foreigners  in  France." 

"That's  s])litting  straws,"  said  Mr.  lOdward,  pouting 
his  pretty  Hjjs.  "  1  shall  advise  Sir  Mark  to  take  you 
back  to  Enjrhind  if  he  d«)esu't  want  a  horrid  Frencbmau 
in  the  family." 

Lill  .stojtprd  her  walk,  and  stood  witii  her  head  turned 


THE    MOTH.  65 

over  her  shoulder  to  look  at  the  speaker ;  she  laughingly 
sang,  by  way  of  answer,  — 

"There  was  a  little  man,  who  had  a  little  soul, 
And  he  said  to  his  soul,  let's  try,  try,  try, 
To  make  a  little  speech  between  you  and  I,  I,  I." 

"  By  heavens  !  you  ought  to  have  your  picture  taken 
just  as  you  are  !"  exclaimed  the  young  man,  sitting  bolt 
upright.     "  You  are  a  real  beauty." 

"  Good-bye,  good-bye."  and,  waving  her  hand,  she 
went  away  singing,  "  There  was  a  little  man,  who  had  a 
little  soul,"  tillthe  passages  echoed  again. 

The  words  reached  Mr.  Tufton's  ear :  their  meaning 
did  not  reach  his  brain. 


66  WHO  BKEAKS — PAY8. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

If  you  Doubt — Abstain. 

"  Gone  !  Gone  !"  exclaimed  Lill,  joyfully,  as  Sir  Marl< 
and  Edward  Tufton  drove  from  the  door  on  the  7th  of 
January,  tn  route  for  England.  "Now,  Crummie,  let 
us  be  as  happy  as  the  day  is  long." 

Miss  Crumptou  looked  a  little  grave  as  she  said, — 

"I  don't  like  to  hear  you  speak  in  that  way,  Lill. 
Suppose  anything  should  happen  to  Sir  Mark,  and  you 
should  never  see  him  again,  you  would  be  vexed  to  think 
that  you  had  been  so  glad  to  got  rid  of  him." 

"  1  cannot  tell  what  1  should  feel  in  that  case,  dear, 
good  cousin,  but  1  know  I  am  happy  just  now,  and 
caunot  get  up  the  least  little  bit  of  sentiment  on  the 
joyful  occasion  ;  it  is  people's  own  fault  when  they  are 
not  loved.  Now  Crummie,  away  with  melancholy;  you 
have  admonished  me  as  it  was  your  duty  to  do ;  and  1 
give  you  absolution." 

Lill  went  singing  to  a  large  cage,  opened  the  door,  and 
let  her  pet  birds  ily  about  the  room  ;  they  perched  on 
her  shoulder,  took  sugar  from  between  her  lips  :  they 
chiri)cd  and  sang  to  her.  and  she  chir]>ed  and  sang  to 
them;  then  she  sent  them  back  to  their  glided  ju'ison, 
and  began  to  arrange  the  flowers  just  brought  in,  looking 
as  loving  and  loveable  as  a  girl  can  be  imagined. 

"Flowers,  and  birds,  and  music,  and  pleasant  people 
to  live  with,  and  clever  iH'ojile  to  listen  to,  wouldn't  that 
be  a  nice  world?"  she  said,  half  to  herself,  hall'  to  .Miss 
Crumpton.  "  There,  now,  look  at  that  rose ;  I  can 
fancy  a  man  falling  in  love  with  such  a  delicate  beauty 
of  a  ros2,  and  oh  !  what  a  perfume  !  The  perfume  of  a 
flower  is  like — is  like — " 

Miss  Crumpton  looked  up  from  her  work,  Lill  answered 
the  mute  interrogation  : 

"Crummie,  dear,  1  am  trying  to  catch  hold  of  my 
thought  to  put  it  into  words,  and  it  slips  away  from 
me." 

Lill  was  by  this  time  seated  before  her  writing-table, 
pen  in  hand,  tickling  her  cheek  with  the  feathered  end. 


IP    YOU    DOUBT — ABSTAIN.  67 

"  Tt  is  like,"  she  continued,  "  the  sweetness  and  hap- 
piness that  good  kind  people  give  to  one's  lite.  Ah, 
dear,  delicious  rose !  Words  are  too  poor  to  say  what 
you  put  into  my  head." 

Miss  Crumptou  was  deep  in  her  work,  and  absolute 
quiet  reigned  in  the  room  ;  it  even  rendered  the  birds 
silent. 

"Cousin!"  exclaimed  Lill,  at  last,  "do  you  recollect 
my  saying  I  would  have  lessons  from  Mr.  Giuliani  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear ;  I  suppose  you  have  thought  better 
of  it.     What  leisure  time  have  you  V 

"  That's  a  secondary  consideration,"  said  Lill.  "  I 
wish  you  to  know  beforehand  what  I  am  going  to  do.  I 
am  now  going  to  write  to  Mr.  Giuliani  to  ask  him  to  give 
me  a  dozen  lessons — only  a  dozen ;  that  will  make  my 
conscience  easy  about  the  expense  I  put  him  to.  Did 
you  hear  Edward  Tufton  take  notice  of  his  shabby 
coat?  It  went  to  my  heart!  I  believe  if  it  had  not 
been  for  that  remark,  I  should  have  forgotten  the 
lessons." 

"  Lill,  if  you  would  only  listen  to  me  for  once — " 

"  No  ;  I  cannot,  dear  Crumraie,"  interrupting  Lill, 
closing  her  chaperone's  mouth  with  her  own  rosy  lips. 

"  It  is  very  imprudent,"  persisted  Miss  Crumpton. 

"  In  what  way  ?"  asked  Lill,  in  a  dry  voice,  and  with  a 
glance  that  silenced  Miss  Crumpton. 

Lill  wrote  a  few  lines,  sealed  and  directed  the  note, 
and  rang  the  bell. 

"  Take  that  to  the  address,"  said  she  to  Joseph. 

"  Am  I  to  wait  for  an  answer  ?" 

"  Ask  if  there  be  one." 

The  messenger  brought  no  reply  to  Miss  Tufton'a 
note,  for,  as  might  have  been  expected,  Giuliani  was  out. 
It  only  reached  him  when  he  returned  at  five  o'clock. 
His  first  sensation  on  reading  it  was  vexation.  "  It 
seems,"  thought  he,  "  that  I  am  fatally  destined  to  be  the 
teacher  of  those  persons  whose  acquaintance  on  a  foot- 
ing of  equality  is  most  agreeable  to  me.  This  young 
lady  makes  no  question  of  my  acceding  to  her  proposal, 
but  asks  me  to  name  my  own  days  and  hours,  and  to 
send  her  a  list  of  the  books  she  must  purchase,  much  in 
the  incisive   terms  she  would  use   to   her   dressmaker. 


68  WBO  BREAKS — PAYS. 

The  arrogance  of  her  nation  peeps  fi'om  beneath  the 
embroidery  of  her  polite  language." 

Satisfied  that  he  had  come  to  au  impartial  judgment, 
he  even  wrote  a  few  lines,  expressing  his  regret  that  he 
had  no  disengaged  time,  but  after  a  quarter  of  an  hour's 
fuming,  he  threw  what  he  had  written  into  the  fire,  as  a 
subterfuge  unworthy  of  him.  He  would  consult  Lady 
Ponsonby,  and  to  her  ladyship  he  went. 

"  What  causes  your  hesitation,  my  good  friend  ?"  was 
Lady  Ponsonby's  straightforward  way  of  entering  on  the 
subject. 

"  A  silly  one,  you  will  say,"  he  returned  ;  "  it  mortifies 
me,  after  being  on  a  footing  of  equality  with  this  young 
lady,  to  sink  down  into  her  master  at  so  much  a  lesson." 

Lady  Ponsonby  leaned  her  head  on  her  hand,  and 
with  her  third  finger  gently  stroked  her  nose ;  a  sign 
with  her  of  inward  perplexity. 

"  If  I  have  judged  Miss  Tufton  rightly,"  she  at  last 
Baid,  "your  being  her  paid  master  will  not  alter  your 

E resent  position  with  her.  Should  it  do  so,  the  loss  of 
er  as  an  acquaintance  would  give  you  no  regret." 

"  Then  you  advise  me  to  agree  ?" 

"There  is  the  old  rule,  Dans  le  doute,  ahstienMoi." 

"  And  a  capital  rule  it  is,"  observed  Giuliani, 
musingly 

"  Wliich  you  do  not  feel  much  inclined  to  follow," 
said  Lady  Ponsonby,  with  a  slight  smile. 

"Take  my  advice,  Mr.  Giuliani,  though  you  have  not 
done  me  the  honor  to  ask  for  it ;"  said  Alicia,  inter- 
fering :  "  accept  of  Miss  Tufton  as  a  pupil ;  she  will  not 
give  you  much  trouble,  I  am  sure." 

"  She  jiarticularizcs,  strangely  enough,"  replied 
Giuliani,  drawing  the  note  from  his  pocket,  and  giving  it 
to  Miss  l*ousonby,  "  that  she  wishes  for  a  dozen  lessons." 

"Some  whim  of  her  graMdCatlier's  ;  gossip  says  he  is  a 
great  miser.  Wliat  a  pretty  hand  Miss  Tufton  writes," 
added  Alicia,  returning  the  note. 

•'  And  so  fond  of  violets,"  said  Giuliani,  without 
thinking  of  what  he  was  saying. 

'I'lie  next  ninrMing  Miss  Tuflon  rocoivcd  a  most  core- 
miinionsly  worded  answer  from  Mr.  (Jinliani,  naming  the 
hours  he  had  at  liberty,  and  begging  iier  to  choose  tiioso 


IF   YOU    DOUBT — ABSTAIN.  69 

most  agreeable  to  her.  He  recommended  her  to  procure 
Robello's  Grammar,  adding  that  other  books  could  be 
decided  on  when  he  should  have  had  the  honor  of  ex- 
amining what  was  Miss  Tuftou's  knowledge  of  the  Italian 
language. 

"  Well,  Crummie,  here's  enough  honor  and  respect 
crammed  into  half-a-dozeu  lines  to  satisfy  you  that  Mr. 
Giuliani  intends  to  preserve  his  distance,  or  rather,  I 
believe,  to  make  me  keep  mine.  I  begin  to  feel  nervous, 
he  takes  the  matter  so  in  earnest." 

Lill  fixed  on  Tuesdays  and  Fridays  for  her  lessons, 
because  the  hour  Giuliani  had  free  on  those  days  was 
from  eleven  to  twelve,  too  early  for  any  interruption 
from  callers,  and,  supposing  Sir  Mark  to  return  before 
she  had  had  the  dozen  lessons  she  had  asked  for,  she  was 
safe  from  his  interference,  as  he  never  left  his  dressing- 
room  before  lunch-time. 

There  was  a  boudoir  beyond  the  back  drawing-room, 
which  Lill  had  appropriated  to  herself  as  a  study.  There 
she  practised  and  painted,  and  it  was  there  that  she  de- 
termined to  receive  her  new  master.  On  the  first  morn- 
ing he  was  to  come,  she  placed  pens,  ink,  paper,  and 
Rol)ello's  Grammar  on  a  table  drawn  towards  the  window, 
and  then  went  in  search  of  Miss  Crumpton,  begging  her 
to  instal  herself  by  the  fireside,  with  her  crochet-work. 
"  I  feel  as  odd  as  possible,"  said  Lill,  as  she  heard 
eleven  strike. 

Mr.  Giuliani  was  punctual.  Lill  was  going  towards 
him  with  the  intention  of  shaking  hands,  but  with  a  slight 
bow  addressed  to  both  ladies,  he  took  a  chair  at  the 
iable,  just  as  the  most  matter-of-fact  master  might  have 
done ;  Lill,  not  a  little  surprised,  also  sat  down. 

"  Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  let  me  hear  you  read  this 
paragraph  ?"  said  Giuliani,  opening  the  grammar  at 
page  9. 

Lill  began  :  "  Qual  havvi  terra  die  il  sole  illumini  con 
luce  piA  Serena,  o  che  riscaldi  con  piil  dolce  tepore  !" 
she  flushed  crimson  as  he  corrected  each  error  of  pro- 
nunciation, provoked  at  herself  for  stammering  and  ap- 
pearing  to  know  less  of  the  language  than  she  really  did. 
He  perceived  her  embarrassment,  and  his  voice  became 
gentle  and  encouraging. 


TO  WHO  BREAKS — PATS. 

"  Had  Miss  Tufton  ever  read  the  Promessi  Sposi  ?" 

"  I  began  it  once,"  said  Lill,  "  but  I  could  not  go  on 
with  it ;  it  seemed  very  stupid." 

Up  rose  Giuliani's  eyebrows  with  unspeakable  astonish- 
ment. 

"  Stupid  !"  he  repeated,  "  do  you  not  know  what  your 
own  distinguished  countryman,  Roofers  said  of  Manzoni's 
clief-cVopuvre:  he  declared  it  was  worth  all  Walter  Scott's 
novels  put  together." 

Lill  was  not  one  to  yield  immediately,  even  to  Mr. 
Rogers'  authority. 

"  1  don't  like  tame  pastoral  stories,  Mr.  (liuliani,"  she 
said,  with  a  resumption  of  her  usual  vivacity,  now  that 
there  was  no  more  question  of  Robello's  grammar. 

"  No  more  do  I,"  he  replied ;  "  but  you  will  find  as 
little  insipidity  in  the  Promessi  Sposi  as  in  Shakspeare  ; 
the  working  of  the  passions,  the  tyranny  of  the  aristo- 
crat over  the  plebeian  artisan,  the  modest  but  constant, 
deep  love  of  Lucia,  delineated  and  painted  by  a  master 
hand,  can  never  be  tame ;  though  I  allow,  you  will  not 
find  in  any  of  Manzoni's  pages  the  pepper  and  spice  of 
the  French  school." 

"  I  will  begin  it  again,"  said  Lill ;  "  I  suppose  1  shall 
be  able  to  find  it  at  any  of  the  great  booksellers." 

"  Will  you  permit  me  to  lend  you  my  copy  ?  it  is  a 
large  one,  and  I  always  myself  find  a  foreign  hiiiguagc 
easier  to  understand  in  large  than  in  small  print." 

Lill  accepted  the  oiler  with  gratitude. 

"You  will  be  so  good  as  to  learn  by  heart  for  next 
lesson,  the  first  exercise,  '  Mn^nionitiue,'  and  a  verb,  and 
write  out  an  exercise  ;  you  can  take  the  third." 

She  read  over  with  him  the  rules  for  it,  and  he  ex- 
jilaincd  patiently  whatever  she  did  not  understand,  and 
tlicn  it  was  twelve  o'clock.  Mr.  (jiuliaiii  rose  ininiedi- 
atcly,  and  with  another  bow  was  gone  almost  before  Lill 
could  rise  from  her  seat. 

"1  never  was  so  hot  before,"  was  her  first  exclama- 
tion, putting  her  two  hands  to  lier  checks  ;  and  then  she 
stood  with  a  puzzled  look  contemplating  the  laliie  and 
the  books.  I  lad  she  spoken  out  licr  thoughts,  she  would 
have  said  that  slie  luid  not  exnected  Mr.  (Jiuliani  to  be- 
have  so   exactly  like    any  oilier  master,   treat   her  so 


IF    TOTT    DOUBT — ABSTAIN.  71 

^xactly  as  any  ordinary  pupil.  She  had  imagined  a  sort 
of  desultory  teaching,  a  little  reading-,  and  a  good  deal 
of  agreeable  conversation  on  Italian  literature,  of  course; 
and  now  she  was  to  learn  verbs  and  vocabulary ;  and 
write  exercises  as  if  she  were  a  school-girl.  'I'hen  this 
jumping  up  and  disappearing  as  the  hour  struck  was 
downright  preposterous. 

On  Friday  she  did  not  offer  to  shake  hands  when  Giu 
Hani  came  in.  The  grammar  was  ready  open  before  his 
seat,  and  he  began  at  once,  "  Le  Lundi  f  attends  le 
tailleur." 

Lill  repeated  her  vocabulary  perfectly. 

"  Bene"  said  the  master,  but  the  exercise  drew  down 
on  Lill  an  avalanche  of  explanations  and  references  to 
rules.  He  then  laid  before  her  the  first  volume  of  the 
Promessi  Sposi. 

"  I  have  here  and  there,"  said  he,  "  translated  into 
English  to  the  best  of  my  ability  some  of  what  I  sus- 
pected might  require  a  dictionary." 

Lill's  quick  glance  discovered  a  multitude  of  inter- 
lineations in  tlu>  pages.  She  was  touclied  by  the  idea 
that  he  had  devoted  so  much  time  and  trouble  to  help 
her,  and  the  cloud  on  her  face  cleared  awa\',  and  her 
voice  was  cheerful,  when  she  expressed  her  obligation. 
But  after  she  had  read  some  twenty  lines,  she  stopped 
and  said, — 

"  Oh  !  Mr.  Giuliani,  I  want  you  so  much  to  explain  to 
me  something  of  these  Italian  affairs.  I  have  been 
reading  an  account  of  the  rejoicings  at  Genoa,  in 
honour  of  the  hundredth  anniversary  of  the  driving  out 
of  the  Austrians,  and  also  that  the  present  assembly  of 
all  the  scientific  men  of  Italy  patronized  by  Charles 
All)ert,  is  a  mere  cloak  to  hide  a  political  conspira.cy. 
Why  are  the  Italians  always  conspiring  ?" 

"  You  ask  me  to  tell  you  a  long  and  tragical  story," 
replied  Giuliani,  in  a  tone  revealing  pain. 

The  English  girl,  native  of  the  freest  country  in  the 
world,  did  not,  perhaps  could  not,  comprehend  the  bit- 
terness to  Italians  of  iiaving  to  discuss  the  checks  and 
defeats  they  had  suffered  in  their  pursuit  of  their  legiti- 
mate aim  of  liberty.  The  majdrity  judge  of  the  attempt 
by  the  issue.     But  Time  takes  on  itself  to  revise  rash 


72  ■WHO  BREAKS — PATS. 

condemnations,  and  to  prove  over  and  over  again  that 
failures  may  open  an  eventual  road  to  success. 

"If  you  are  really  interested  in  the  affairs  of  my 
country,"  went  on  Giuliani,  "  1  will  bring  you  a  work  or 
two,  wliicli  will  answer  your  question  of  '  Why  are  the 
Italians  always  conspiring  ?'  At  present  my  conscience 
will  not  allow  me  to  take  up  your  lesson  by  conversation 
on  the  subject." 

Lill  opened  her  eyes  very  wide  on  him,  and  said  tartly, — 

"  I  think  I  might  be  allowed  to  decide  the  right  or 
wrong  of  that." 

"  Pardon  me  !  you  pay  me  to  teach  you  Italian,  not  to 
converse  on  Italian  politics,"  returned  Giuliani,  quietly. 
"May  I  request  you  to  go  on  reading?" 

The  conversation  between  master  and  pupil  was  in 
French,  of  which  Miss  Crumpton  scarcely  knew  a  word. 
The  chapcrone  heard,  however,  from  the  tone  of  the  two 
voices,  that  something  had  gone  wrong,  and  looked 
inquiringly  towards  the  table.  Lill,  aware  of  this,  im- 
mediately obeyed  Giuliani's  invitation  and  continued  her 
reading. 

Though  she  was  nettled  at  the  rebuff  she  had  received, 
Lill  approved  of  it,  and  had  no  intention  of  confiding  it 
to  Miss  Crumpton.  That  lady  was  already  prejudiced 
against  Mr.  Giuliani,  and  objected  to  his  Ix'ing  wliere  he 
was;  and  Lill  knew  that  Crunimie's  prejudices  were 
ineffaceable,  and  that  she  had  the  faculty  of  returning  to 
the  charge,  and,  like  her  countrymen,  never  undorsland- 
ing  that  she  was  beaten.  Therefore  with  regard  to  Mr. 
Giuliani,  Lill,  uidike  herself,  confided  no  feelings  or 
opinions  to  her  chaperonc.  It  would  have  been  difficult 
to  say  what  either  were,  for  tliey  varied  with  almost 
every  lesson. 

jjjll  now  devoted  the  greater  part  of  her  mornings  to 
Italian  :  she  could  do  nothing  by  halves.  As  she  read 
the  Promessi  Sposi,  she  compared  what  she  read  with 
her  master's  description  of  it.  "A  true  jiicture  of  the 
working  of  the  human  jiassions,  of  the  tyranny  of  the 
great,  and  of  a  modest,  constant  love." 

Hitherto  she  had  turned  over  the  leaves  of  many 
novels,  only  stojqiing  to  read,  when  scenes  of  passion 
occurred ;  and  she  bud  preferred  those  talcs  most  which 


IF    TOU    DOUBT — ABSTAIN.  73 

presented  lier  with  pictures  of  life  unknown  to  her . 
violent,  brilliant,  i)ictaresque. 

Giuliani's  words,  "a  modest,  constant  love,"  had 
sounded  to  her  like  "namby-pamby  propriety."  How 
were  poor  peasants  to  find  time  for  being  in  love ! 

'I'he  dark  episode  of  the  iSignora  interested  her,  and 
she  told  Giuliani  so. 

"  It  is  said,"  he  replied,  "  that  the  woes  of  the  great 
affect  us  more  than  the  sorrows  of  the  little,  and  that 
that  is  the  reason  why  the  tragic  poets  deal  almost 
exclusively  with  the  misfortunes  of  kings  and  princes. 
The  Signora  is  a  princess,  therefore  you  feel  more  for 
her  than  for  the  poor  little  country  girl." 

"And  republicans  never  miss  sending  a  shaft  against 
rank,"  said  Lill,  smiling;  "you  are  wrong  here,  it  is 
not  the  nun's  rank  which  invests  her  with  such  an 
interest;  it  is  her  being  made  such  a  victim — oh,  the 
odious,  refined  cimning  of  her  relations!  The  way  even 
her  father  takes  advantage  of  her  best  feelings ;  and, 
when  she  is  driving  on  the  Strada  Marina,  and,  the 
carriages  filled  with  gay  companj  pass  her,  you  remem- 
ber how  one  of  her  uncles  turns  to  her  and  says : — 
'Ah !  sly  one,  you  have  thrust  aside  all  these  frivolities; 
you  are  a  saint,  leaving  us  poor  creatures  to  stick  in 
worldly  vanities ;  you  run  away  to  live  a  holy  life,  and 
go  to  Paradise  in  a  carriage.'  It  made  me  wild  to  read 
it,"  and  Lill's  eyes  flashed  and  sparkled. 

"  But  Lucia  is  also  a  victim,"  said  relentless  Giuliani, 
"  and  yet  her  anguish  leaves  you  cold." 

"  Oh !  cold  is  not  the  right  word  to  use,"  remonstrated 
Lill ;  "  I  am  sure  if  crying  is  to  be  taken  as  any  sign  of 
feeling,  I  cried  enough  when  she  is  in  the  boat,  and  ap- 
pears to  sleep,  but  is  weeping  silently  ;  I  felt  every  word 
of  the  last  page  of  that  eighth  chapter,  as  if  they  came 
from  my  own  heart.  But  still  I  uphold  that  the  Signora 
is  the  most  interesting.  She  is  so  cruelly  cut  off  from 
all  hope ;  it  is  so  terrifying  to  see  her  slipping  from 
weakness  into  vice,  and  down  into  the  lowest  depths  of 
crime,  as  if  it  were  unavoidable." 

"  Do  you  imagine  Lucia  would  have  fallen  as  the  Sig- 
nora did,  however  tempted,  or  that  in  Ijucia's  situation 
the  Signora  would  have  walked  innocently  ?" 


74  WHO   BREAKS — PATS. 

"  Ah  !  I  don't  know  wioiiijh  of  human  nature  to  ilecide 
that :  perhaps,"  adtled  Lill,  phiyfuUy,  "  Lucia  is  too 
good ;  one  is  too  sure  she  will  always  do  right  whatever 
happens." 

"  A  capital  reason,"  replied  Giuliani,  "  which  means 
that  virtue  is  a  bore,  and  that  an  infusion  of  wickedness 
is  indispensable  to  give  zest  to  a  heroine." 

"  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Giuliani,  you  are  very  much  in- 
clined to  be  unjust  to  mc ;  you  misconstrue  into  I  don't 
know  what  absurd  theory,  a  remark  made  in  jest  to  finish 
off  an  argument,  in  which  I  was  sensible  I  was  getting 
defeated." 

"  Forgive  my  rough  speaking,  Miss  Tufton,"  said  Giu- 
liani, in  an  earnest  voice.  "  I  wished  to  warn  one  so 
young  and  gifted  as  you  are,  against  acquiring  the  habit 
of  finding  satisfaction  in  pictures  of  w'hat  lowers  human 
nature;  try,  on  the  contrary,  to  seek  pleasure  only  in 
that  which  elevates  our  being." 

Lill  felt  as  impressible  women  do,  when  they  receive  a 
serious  check  for  what  they  had  intended  as  playfulness. 
She  was  half  inclined  to«be  angry,  and  half  to  cry  ;  how- 
ever she  continued  her  reading  with  a  fair  show  of  com- 
posure. 


HARD    LESSONS.  75 


CHAPTER    XII. 

Hard  Lessons. 

This  conversation  took  place  when  two-thirds  of  Miss 
Tui'ton's  dozen  lessons  had  been  received.  It  is  time, 
therefore,  to  examine  a  little  into  the  state  of  Mr.  Giuli- 
ani's heart,  after  having  been  so  long  in  a  post  of  ex- 
treme danger. 

We  have  tried  to  describe  the  sort  of  man  he  was  ;  a 
man  in  every  situation  of  life  more  likely  to  stiffen  him- 
self than  to  be  pliant.  One  who  had  voluntarily  re- 
nounced a  high  personal  position  because  it  entailed 
the  denial  of  his  political  principles ;  who  had  failed  as 
a  writer,  because  denied -the  liberty  to  write  according 
to  his  conscience.  One  who  was  indifferent  to  the  glit- 
ter of  riches  or  pleasures :  who  was  contented  with  an 
obscure  sphere,  whilst  waiting  for  a  fitting  occasion  to 
devote  himself  to  his  country  usefully  —  an  occasion 
that  he  was  convinced  would  soon  occur  —  and  in  the 
meantime  employing  his  circumscribed  leisure  for  the 
acquisition  of  knowledge.  This  was  the  Giuliani  Lill 
had  met  at  Mrs.  Caledon's.  "What  neither  kings  nor 
governments,  nor  "  times  out  of  joint,"  nor  literary  time- 
servers,  had  been  able  to  do,  a  slight  girl  had  effected. 
She  had  destroyed  his  healthy  resignation,  thrown  every 
faculty  of  his  soul  into  deadly  struggle,  keeping  his  spirit 
floating  between  two  opposed  influences,  love  and  reason. 

Under  his  grave  exterior,  the  continual  warfare  raging 
between  these  inimical  adversaries  was  difficult  to  dis- 
cern. He  had  been  at  the  first  a  little  afraid  of  his  own 
lively  admiration  for  Lill,  and  had  narrowly  watched 
himself ;  but  when  he  found  tiiat  he  had  no  feverish  im- 
patience to  see  her,  that  even  the  interval  of  a  wec^b 
(when,  for  some  reason  or  other,  she  had  put  off  a  le.> 
son),  did  not  seem  long  to  him,  —  he  breathed  freely, 
convinced  that  danger  did  not  lurk  for  him  even  in  her 
sweet  presence. 

This  happy  conviction  faded  almost  as  rapidly  as  it 
had  sprung  n\).  (iliuliani  was  no  self-indulgent  dreamer. 
VYith  the  certitude  that  he  loved  Lill  with  all  the  con- 


7G  WHO   BREAKS — PATS. 

centrated  energy  of  his  nature,  came  also  the  knowledge 
that  he  had  an  enemy  to  conquer.  Spare  it  to-day,  and 
to-morrow  it  would  be  too  late.  Love  held  an  inebria- 
ting cup  to  his  lips.  Reason  snatched  it  away,  took  from 
it  Hope,  and  gave  it  back  to  him,  a  bitter  yet  divine 
draught  of  struggle  and  suffering.  His  probing  spirit 
had  detected  that  though  Lill's  ingenuous  trust  in  his 
judgment  and  unconscious  adoption  of  his  opinions, 
might  be  fostered  into  attachment,  her  heart  did  not 
spontaneously  incline  towards  his.  That  versatility  of 
her  impressions,  which  exercised  so  great  a  fascination 
over  him,  was  but  a  reason  the  more  for  his  protecting 
her  against  himself.  He  was  neither  a  blind  adorer  nor 
a  blind  detractor  of  the  sex — the  two  camps  into  which 
the  men  of  his  time  seemed  divided.  He  knew  that 
good,  strong-hearted  women,  were  capable  of  the  most 
sublime  and  unselfish  missions;  women  from  out  of 
whose  intiuite  benevolence  and  gentleness,  men  wearied 
of  battling  with  the  egotism  of  the  world,  could  gather 
hope  fiu-  the  future  and  forgetfulness  of  present  evil. 
But  Lill,  lovely,  sprightly  Lill,  with  noble  impulses,  was 
a  spoilt  child  of  fortune ;  acting  from  sentiment,  with 
only  confused  notions  of  justice,  without  any  firm  con- 
victions of  what  was  right  or  what  wrong.  Love  her  he 
did  ;  avoid  her  he  must.  His  first  impulse  was  to  leave 
Paris  immediately,  but  he  was  not  master  of  the  situa^ 
tion.  He  had  no  money  to  live  upon,  except  the  pro- 
duce of  his  teaching. 

A  moment  of  escape  offered  itself  to  Giuliani;  the 
di.zcn  lessons  wliich  Lill  had  asked  for  were  at  an  end. 
He  did  meditate  excusing  himself  from  further  at  tend- 
ance on  her ;  but  the  weakness  of  human  nature  and  the 
re])ugnance  to  seem  to  jjress  the  pecnniary  part  of  the 
allair  on  iier  notice,  withheld  him,  and  the  liappy  occa^ 
eioii  was  lost. 

Lill,  in  the  meanwhile,  was  greatly  distressing  herself 
as  to  how  she  was  to  manage  to  pay  liim.  She  had  held 
ti:((  money  in  tlie  liollow  of  her  haud'during  tiie  thirteenth 
and  fourteenth  h^ssons. 

"  If  it  were  fifty  or  a  hundred  pounds,"  said  she  to 
licrsclf,  "  it  would  not  be  so  dreadful  to  do ;  but  a  paltry 
Bixty  Irancs  !" 


HARD    LESSONS.  11 

She  thought  of  confiding  the  task  to  Miss  Crumpton, 
but  she  was  afraid  of  the  way  her  chaperone  might 
acquit  herself  of  the  commission.  Miss  Crumpton  was 
extremely  particular  about  having  receipts  for  every 
payment  she  made.  Lill  would  never  recover  it,  should 
Miss  Crumpton  ask  one  from  Mr.  Giuliani.  No :  sho 
must  give  the  money  herself,  and  she  would  spare  him 
as  much  as  possible  by  having  no  witnesses  to  the  fact. 

lu  pursuance  of  this  determination,  she  said  to  Miss 
Crumpton  on  the  ensuing  lesson  day,  — 

"  I  am  going  to  pay  Mr.  Giuliani  to-day.  Give  me 
the  money,  please ;  and,  Crummie,  just  go  out  of  the 
room  at  five  minutes  to  twelve,  I  am  sure  he  would 
rather  I  paid  him  without  anybody  looking  on  " 

"Ah  !  just  as  you  please,  my  dear ;  it's  very  lucky 
your  lessons  are  over  before  Sir  Mark's  return. 

"  They  are  not  over,"  replied  Lill.  "  I  have  begun 
another  dozen.  I  did  not  exactly  mean  to  do  so,  Crum- 
mie ;  but  somehow  I  had  not  the  courage  to  say  I  did 
not  wish  for  any  more." 

Miss  Crumpton  was  really  vexed,  and  moreover  fright- 
ened. A  thought  that  had  more  than  once  troubled  her 
lately,  suddenly  made  her  use  now  these  warning  words: 

"  Take  care  what  you  are  about,  Lill !" 

Lill  turned  at  bay  like  a  young  lioness  on  the  poor 
lady, 

"  Pray  what  am  I  to  take  care  of,  Miss  Crumpton  ?" 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  ofiend  you,  my  dear." 

"  But  you  do  oflend  me.  What  irretrievable  scrape  is 
there  in  having  two  dozen,  instead  of  one  dozen  Italian 
lessons  ?" 

The  door  bell  rang,  or  probably  Miss  Crumpton  would 
have  very  sufficiently  succeeded  in  opening  Lill's  eyes  to 
the  feelings  Giuliani  entertained  towards  her ;  in  short, 
played  the  part  of  destiny,  as  it  was  not  unlikely  that 
the  knowledge  that  she  was  adored  by  a  man  for  whom 
she  felt  such  respect  and  esteem,  might  have  so  wrought 
on  Lill,  as  to  make  her  give  him  her  maiden  heart  in 
return.  However,  fate  willed  the  door-bell  should  ring, 
and  prevent  Miss  Crumpton's  answer.  It  was  not  Mr. 
Giuliani,  as  the  ladies  had  anticipated,  but  a  letter  from 
England,  and  from  Sir  Mark.     In  spite  of  all  her  show 

7* 


78  WHO   BREAKS — PATS. 

of  bravery,  Lill  opened  it  with  trembl...*:  fiiij^ers,  that 
betrayed  an  inner  trepidation,  her  eyes  ghmcing  eagtrly 
over  Sir  Mark's  extremely  well-written  epistle. 

Sir  Mark,  who  alwavs  wrote  aorecablv,  as  if  to  make 
sure  that  no  line  of  his  should  ever  hang  him,  surpassed 
himself  in  his  present  composition,  lie  was  afllection- 
ate,  and  actually  liberal  in  deeds  as  well  as  words.  He 
began  by  apologizing  to  his  granddaughter  for  being  a 
remiss  correspondent  —  wished  to  know  if  Miss  Tuft  on 
were  still  pleased  with  Paris,  and  if  she  could  make  up 
her  mind  to  remain  there  a  little  longer  —  till  Easter 
Iierha])s  ?  He  had  unexpected  business  which  would 
proLably  detain  him  until  then.  London  was  empty  ;  no 
gaiety  —  never  was  till  after  April.  He  enclosed  a  letter 
of  credit  on  Hottenguer  and  Co.  for  household  expenses; 
be  believed  it  was  ample  enough  to  allow  her  also  to 
amuse  herself  as  much  as  she  liked. 

Lill  drew  a  long  breath,  like  one  relieved  of  a  load, 
and  gave  theletter  of  credit  to  MissCrumpton,  saying. — 

"  To  be  so  generous  and  so  very  kind  Sir  Mark  must 
be  ill :  however,  Cousin  Crumpton,  set  your  mind  at  rest, 
the  evil  hour  you  anticipated  for  me  is  adjourned." 

It  was  with  great  elation  of  spirits  at  what  was  una- 
vowcdly  a  hap])y  reprieve,  and  forgetful  of  either  warn- 
ing or  offence,  that  Lill  received  her  Italian  master.  She 
was  at  a  flower-stand  when  he  came  in,  trying  to  twine 
some  ivy  liranches  round  the  bars.  The  face  she  turned 
towards  him  was  as  bright  as  ever  that  of  Aurora  ap- 
peared in  dreams  to  poet  or  painter. 

"  Please  come  here  and  help  me,"  she  said. 

He  went  to  her  side. 

"  No,  no,  not  that  way.  ^[r.  Ciuliani,"  as  he  at lempfed 
to  weave  in  the  Itranch  she  gave  him.  "  You  are  forcing 
it  against  its  will :  don't  you  know  that  even  creepers 
have  a  will  of  their  own  ?" 

"  Indeed  1  did  not ;  1  am  a  thorough  ignoramus  about 
flowers." 

"  But  you  love  them,  I  hope." 

"  I  enjoy  them  when  1  see  them  ;  but  they  arc  not  a 
uccessity  of  my  life." 

"Oh,  I  ani  sorry  to  liear  you  say  that  !  I  am  so  fond 
of  thum,  and  they  are  so  grateful  for  fouducss.  At  buuic, 


HARD    LESSONS.  79 

the  first  thing  I  do  in  the  morning  is  to  run  out  and  look 
at  my  flowers,  and  I  have  a  positive  remorse  if  I  see  one 
drooping ;  I  know  it  is  through  my  neglect ;  I  water  it, 
and  presently  up  rises  its  sweet  head,  as  if  to  thank  me," 
and  while  Lill  spoke  she  was  busy  tying  up  her  plants, 
or  relieving  them  from  old  blossoms  or  withered  leaves, 
all  of  which  she  put  quite  naturally  into  Giuliani's 
hands,  her  own  small  white  fingers  touching  his  at 
every  moment. 

Miss  Crumpton  had  been  over-anxious  to  obey  Lill's 
injunction,  and  had  left  the  room  before  Giuliani's 
arrival. 

Plis  pupil  was  so  confiding,  so  gentle,  so  almost  af- 
fectionate in  her  manner  towards  him,  that  the  master 
had  a  wild  desire  to  catch  her  in  his  arms,  and  tell  her 
that  he  worshipped  her.  While  he  renuxincd  silent  from 
his  extreme  emotion,  she  talked  on  to  him  ;  but  he  did  not 
seize  the  sense  of  her  words  for  the  dull,  heavy  sound  in 
his  ears  ;  his  head  felt  as  if  bursting.  Could  he  have 
thought  at  all,  he  would  have  been  afraid  he  was  in 
danger  of  a  fit. 

"  There,  thank  you,"  said  Lill,  moving  away  from  the 
jnrdinih'e.  "  If  you  lived  in  the  country,  and  had  a 
garden  of  your  own,  you  would  soon  adore  flowers." 

She  was  at  the  table  busy  with  her  desk,  he  standing 
always  motionless  where  she  had  been.  She  came  back 
to  him. 

"  Mr.  Giuliani,"  speaking  now  in  a  low  voice,  "  you 
know  I  owe  you  something,"  and  with  the  deepest  of 
blushes  she  held  out  a  little  packet,  in  which  were  three 
napoleons. 

He  was  sobered  at  once,  and  the  "  thank  you"  with 
which  he  received  the  money  had  reference  rather  to  the 
service  so  unconsciously  rendered  him,  of  bringing  him 
back  to  his  senses,  than  to  the  money  she  gave  him. 

That  day's  trials  were  not  at  an  end  for  him.  Lill 
was  reading  Dante,  and  this  day  she  had  to  read  the  end 
of  the  fifth  canto^he  story,  in  fact,  of  Paolo  and  Fran 
cesca.     When  she  reached  the  line— 

"  Amor,  cb'  a  null'  amato,  aniar  perdona." 

he  started  up,  saying  abruptly, — 


80  WHO    BREAKS — PATS. 

"  I  must  interrupt  you  ;  we  lost  some  of  our  time  to. 
day.  I  have  a  jjressiiig  engagement ;  you  can  read  the 
remaining-  page  to  yourself,  and  prepare  the  sixth  canto 
for  next  time." 

Many  years  after  Giuliani  read  in  his  diary  at  the  note 
made  of  that  lesson  these  words, — 

"  If  I  were  twenty-one,  instead  of  thirty-one,  I  should 
be  a  happy  blockhead  this  day-^being  thirty-one  instead 
of  twenty-one,  I  am  a  blockhead  without  the  happiness. 
How  enchanting  she  was  to  me — familiar  as  with  a  dear 
brother — yet  with  a  touch  of  shyness  that  would  not 
have  existed  between  brother  and  sister. 

"  What  the  deuce  !  was  I  ignorant  when  I  adopted 
the  career  of  a  teacher — was  I  ignorant  that  I  was  no 
longer  to  be  a  man,  but  a  species  of  monk  or  father-con- 
fessor— that  I  was  to  be  dead  to  all  the  temptations  of 
youth,  beauty,  and  grace,  to  the  sweetness  of  an  angel  ? 
It  went  very  well  with  me  for  years.  I  have  seen  rosy 
cheeks,  sparkling  eyes,  pretty  creatures  enough  to  turn 
any  masculine  head,  and  T  declare  to  heaven,  they  might 
have  been  so  many  dolls  for  aught  1  cared.  Last  year 
those  two  sisters  from  England,  so  noble,  gentle,  lovely, 
even  kindly,  never  hurried  my  pulse.  I  had  come  to 
believe  myself  bomb-proof.  Query. — What's  to  be  done 
now? 

"  Answer. — Cut  off'  your  right  hand,  pluck  out  your 
right  eye  if  it  offend  you."  The  next  words  showed  by 
a  change  in  the  color  of  the  ink,  that  they  had  been 
added  at  another  time. 

"  I  have  never  been  able  to  absolve  Othello  for  his 
theft  of  Desdemona.  No  matter  that  she  was  willing,  or 
her  father  unreasonable — if  indeed  he  were  so — of  wiiich 
fact  I  know  notliing.  Capital  Sliaksjx'are  !  how  he  i)re- 
pares  that  through  that  rent  in  llie  armour  of  her  discre- 
tion, a  doubt  may  be  shot  into  Othello's  mind  as  to  his 
bride's  truth. 

"  There  is  a  spice  of  Othello  in  every  man,  the  less  or 
the  more  makes  a  trag-edy  or  a  comedy.  Probably  I 
have  a  larger  doSe.  Miss  Ponsonby  comi)ared  this 
Kngli.sli  Pearl  to  Desdemona,  when  noticing  her  neat- 
ness in  aH  Iho  dcliciitc  works  of  women.  As  far  as  I  am 
concerned  this  Pearl  tiliall  receive  no  injury,  not  iiave  u 


HARD    LESSONS.  83 

flaw  in  her  perfection,  to  be  discovered  by  a  microscope 
She  mifjht  pity  nie,  niif^lit  lend  lior  ear  to  my  sad  story. 
I  shall  not  tell  it  to  lier.  A  man  does  not  cry  out  when 
he  is  hurt.  Heroics !  I  declare :  well,  I  am  ready  to 
laugh  at  them,  and  write  myself  down  no  hero — but  an 
ass." 


82  WHO  BREAKS — PAYS. 


CHAPTER    Xlir. 

Under  Strange  Circumstances. 

Pf;SsiBLY  the  hiatus  botweon  those  two  para2:ra])Ms, 
marks  the  moment  when  Giuliani  nii^ht  hare  retreattd, 
and  did  not,  from  the  temptation  LilF's  presence  was  for 
him.  The  period  when  he  invoked  the  sacred  injunction 
as  a  guide,  and  did  not  obey  its  behests.  The  spirit  of 
the  last  observation  is  unlike  that  of  the  first :  there  is 
in  it  a  perceptible  subtle  protest  ajiainst  himself  and  a 
recorded  promise  in  favor  of  his  pupil. 

One  morning  that  Lill  was  on  her  way  to  call  on  Lady 
Ponsonby.  she  saw  her  ladyship  and  Alicia  in  tlie  street. 
8he  pulled  the  check-string,  and  jumping  out  of  the 
carriage,  joined  them,  saying, — 

"  I  was  on  my  way  to  you." 

"  If  you  will  wait  a  few  minutes  for  me,"  said  Lady 
Ponsonby,  "I  shall  be  home  again.  We  are  going  to 
(jiiiliani's  apartments  with  one  or  two  little  presents ;  it 
is  his  fgte  day.  and  we  don't  wish  him  to  feel  himself 
alone  in  a  foreign  land." 

"  Oh  !  let  me  go  with  you,  will  you  ?"  asked  Lill.  "  I 
am  sorrj'  I  did  not  know  sooner,  but  I  can  leave  my 
pencil  case  with  your  presents.  I  don't  think  he  will 
care  for  its  not  being  new." 

Lady  Ponsonby  had  nothing  to  say  against  this  ar- 
rangement. Tiicre  was  no  impropriety  in  Lill's  giving 
her  master  a  pencil-case,  nor  in  lu^r  gift  being  left  with 
those  of  her  ladyship.  Still  I^ady  Ponsonby  would 
rather  not  have  m(>t  Lill  at  that  instant.  Giuliani's  ])()r- 
Icr  wiien  asked  for  the  key  of  the  apartment  by  Lady 
Ponsonby,  who  was  well  known  to  him,  answered, — 

"  Monsieur  est  chcz  liil,  madame," 

"  Well,  what  will  you  do  now  ?"  asked  Lady  Ponsonby, 
turning  to  Ia\L 

"Let  us  go  up  l)y  all  means,"  replied  Lill,  laughing. 
"  JIow  surprised  he  will  be  to  sec  me  !" 

Surprised  was  scarcely  the  woril  to  describe  Giuliani's 
BPnsations,  wlien  on  opening  his  door  he  descried  Lill's 
bright  face  peeping  from  behind  Alicia. 


UNDER  STRANQE  CIRCUMSTANCES.  83 

"  The  devil  plays  ap^ainst  me,"  thought  he. 

The  ladies  entered  the  little  salon,  Lady  Ponsonby 
explaining  how  she  had  met  Miss  Tufton,  and  brought 
her  with  her,  carefully  takiug  all  the  respousibility  of 
the  act  on  herself. 

Lill's  beautiful  eyes  grew  actually  round  with  astonish- 
ment, when  she  saw  on  the  table  the  bread  and  the  square 
of  chocolate,  which  Giuliani  had  been  iu  the  act  of  eat> 
ing  when  they  went  in ;  a  clasp-knife  like  that  used  by 
English  labourers  to  cut  their  bread  and  cheese,  lay  by 
the  l)read. 

After  tlie  first  shock  was  over,  Giuliani  was  glad  that 
Lill  should  see  his  poverty  in  all  its  reality;  he  knew 
that  things  imagined  have  often  a  charm  which  vanishes 
when  witnessed.  He  fancied  tliat  henceforth  any  idea 
of  equality  between  herself  and  him,  would  cease,  and 
that  thus  his  task  of  self-control  would  be  very  easy. 

The  contrary  of  this  occurred.  The  sight  touched 
the  warmest  springs  of  Lill's  heart.  A  gentleman  so 
excellent,  so  accomplished,  living  in  this  way,  without 
any  one  to  wait  on  him — she  felt  wild  to  say  something 
kind,  to  do  something  to  show  how  much  she  respected 
him  ;  and  yet  oppressed  by  a  new-born  timidity,  she  re- 
mained for  a  little  like  one  ill  at  ease. 

Giuliani  had,  however,  one  of  those  sincere,  immutable 
natures  which,  though  not  of  the  kind  to  conduce  to 
self-advancement,  always  leaves  a  man  master  of  himself. 

He  was  now  so  perfectly  unembarrassed,  explaining 
how  he  came  to  be  so  late  in  breakfasting ;  so  little  in 
need  of  encouragement,  that  Lill  forgot  to  feel  awkward 
for  him,  and  began  flitting  about  the  room,  reading  the 
titles  of  books,  examining  the  map  of  Italy,  the  pipes 
ranged  against  the  wall,  and  trying  to  get  a  peep  down 
into  the  street. 

In  the  meanwhile.  Lady  Ponsonby  was  busy  spreading 
a  thick  cover  on  the  table,  as  she  said  to  prevent  his 
fingers  from  being  numbed  with  writing  on  the  cold  mar- 
ble, while  Alicia  was  adorning  his  lamp  with  a  shade 
composed  of  the  tricolour  of  Italy. 

"  Tante  e  tante  grazic,  Madonne  mie,"  said  Giuliani, 
"if  I  had  had  a  presentiment  of  my  good  fortune,  I 
should  have  tried  to  be  prepared  with  a  sonnet."     Lill 


84  WHO  BREAKS — PATS. 

was  standing  apart,  wishing  to  present  Jicr  pencil  case 
but  seized  with  a  fit  of  shj-ness  not  to  be  overcome. 

"  I  think  I  have  somethina-  better  wortli  your  attention 
than  these  meerschaums,  INIiss  Tufton."'  said  Giuliani,  aa 
he  drew  out  one  of  the  drawers  below  his  sola ;  and 
taking  from  it  a  wooden  box,  he  arranged  before  the 
young  lady  a  collection  of  plaster  casts  of  the  monu- 
ments of  Rome. 

"  ]\Iy  kindest  of  pupils,  Valentine,  brought  me  these 
remembrances  from  home." 

"  Are  you  a  Roman,  Mr.  Giuliani  ?" 

"An  Italian  born  in  the  Romagna,"  was  the  answer. 

Lill  said,  going  to  the  map,  "  Show  me  where  that  is." 

"You  sec,  Lady  Ponsonby,"  exclaimed  Giuliani,  "that 
in  Enjrland  there  is  about  as  much  known  of  Italy  as  of 
China." 

"  That  is  not  a  just  accusation,  Mr.  (jiuliani,"  returned 
Lill,  with  spirit.  "If  you  were  to  be  told  I  came  from 
Staffordshire,  or  Shropshire,  would  you  know  exactly 
whore  to  put  your  finger  on  those  counties  in  an  English 
map  ?" 

"  But  the  Roman  Legation  is  a  state,  not  a  shire,  Miss 
Tufton ;  as  much  a  state  as  either  Scotland  or  Ireland. 
By  the  way,"  turning  to  Lady  Ponsonby,  "  do  you  see 
that  the  Tuscans  are  beginning  to  join  in  the  hymns  of 
praise  to  the  Pope,  and  manifesting  a  considerable  de 
gree  of  aversion  to  their  own  government." 

"  Everything  that  seemed  most  unlikely  to  come  tc 

Eass  appears  now  about  to  happen,"  said  Lady  Poiison 
y.  "Indeed,  after  the  miracle  of  a  Pope  being  chief 
of  the  party  of  progress  I  have  begun  lo  expect  to  live 
to  sec  an  Italy  independent  and  free." 

"  It  is  difficult  to  expect  regeneration  from  such  a 
source  as  a  I'ope,"  replied  Giuliani.  "The  man  as  a 
man,  I  believe  to  be  honest  and  benevolent ;  I  allow  it, 
but  he  is  the  head  of  a  body  wiiich  holds  to  influence, 
riches,  dignities;  and  to  jjrcserve  these  Pius  IX.  or  any 
other  Pope  will  be  constrained  by  the  princes  of  the 
Church  to  retain  temporal  ])ower;  and  the  Pope  as  tem- 
poral sovereign,  must  prevent  the  union  and  independence 
of  Italy.  Ncvertlieless  I  liai!  Ihe  daily  increasing  agita- 
tion, and  the  rorthcoming  disorder.     Fire  and  sword  arc 


UNDER  STRANGE  CIRCDMSTANCES.  85 

befoi  e  us ;  let  them  come,  they  bring  a  resurrection — life 
nut  deatlL  " 

Alicia,  wlio  had  not  been  speaking,  remarked  that 
notwithstanding  Giuliani's  interest  in  the  subject  on 
which  he  was  conversing,  his  eye  was  always  seeking  the 
pretty  licad  bending  over  the  casts  of  Roman  monuments. 
Lill  had  untied  her  bonnet,  and  taken  oil'  her  gloves,  and 
altogether  she  looked  as  if  she  were  at  home ;  and  not 
the  least  like  a  fine  lady  under  strange  circumstances. 

The  striking  of  the  clock  made  Giuliani  start,  and  re- 
minded him  that  time  was  not  his  own.  "  I  must  go," 
he  said ;  "  ]Miss  Tufton  knows  that  pupils  do  not  like  to 
be  made  to  wait.  I  see  her  sometimes  look  significantly 
at  the  clock,  when  I  am  five  minutes  late  ;  and  to-day  1 
give  my  first  lesson  to  a  very  great  and  very  busy  lady, 
who  entreated  me  to  be  punctual,  as  every  hour  of  her 
day  was  allotted  to  some  particular  pursuit." 

He  accompanied  the  ladies  down  stairs,  handed  Lady 
Ponsonby  and  Lill  into  the  carriage, — Alicia  had  de- 
clined going  with  them, — bowed,  and  Lill  saw  him  waik 
away  by  the  side  of  Miss  Ponsonby.  The  sight  of  the 
elegant  equipage,  the  spirited  horses,  the  powdered  men 
servants,  obliterated  the  pleasant  homely  picture  of  Lill 
seated  in  his  room.  "  A  precious  fool  1  am,"  was  the 
agreeable  conclusion  he  came  to. 

The  first  words  Lill  said  to  Lady  Ponsonby  were, — 

"  1  had  not  courage  to  give  the  pencil-case  to  Mr. 
Giuliani." 

"Perhaps  it  was  better  not,"  said  Lady  Ponsonby ;  "it 
is  always  awkward  for  a  man  to  receive  presents  from  a 
young  Lady." 

"  Miss  Ponsonby  gave  him  one." 

"Alicia?  Oh!  that's  a  difi'erent  affair.  Alicia  can 
scarcely  be  called  a  young  lady;  and  do  you  not  see 
they  are  on  the  terms  of  brother  and  sister,  or  rather,  to 
give  up  a  hackneyed  and  not  a  true  comparison,  like 
honest  friends."     And  here  the  conversation  dropped. 

Although  no  list  has  been  furnished  of  the  gaieties 
which  occupied  Lill's  evenings  during  the  period  of  her 
Italian  lessons,  it  must  be  understood  that  her  routine 
of  engagements  was  in  no  way  interfered  with  by  her 
new  studies.     Many  were  the  glimpses  Giuliani  had  of 

8 


86  WHO   BREAKS — PATS. 

her  on  her  way  to  halls ;  and  each  time  he  received  a 
aew  warning  of  the  impracticability  of  sympathy  between 
their  lives.  But  this  was  not  quite  so  impossible  as  he 
imagined.  After  having  danced  a  whole  evening  with 
men,  young,  fashionable,  and,  for  the  most  part,  rich 
and  titled,  Lill,  on  her  return  home,  would  suliject  them 
to  a  criticism,  which  testified  to  her  shrewdness,  and 
shoAved  that  these  partners  of  a  quadrille  and  a  waltz 
had  no  chance  of  interesting  her  heart.  Hitherto  Ijill 
had  reflected  little  on  any  sul)ject;  the  habit  of  thinking 
out  a  thought  is  not  a  general  one;  and  the  curiously 
far-seeing  perspicacity  which  she  had  at  moments  lasted 
but  the  length  of  a  moment. 


CLODDS.  87 


CHAPTER    XIY. 

Clouds. 

There  came  an  epoch  in  which  not  only  Robello'a 
graiiimar  and  Dante  were  discussed  between  master  and 
pupil,  hut  music,  painting,  poetry  were  talked  over  with 
spirit;  when  sonielinies  the  melody  of  Lill's  voice  had 
rendered  Mr.  (Jiuliuni  deaf  to  the  strkingof  the  noonday 
hour.  The  progress  of  many  things  in  this  world  is 
never  verified  until  a  great  change  has  been  effected. 
For  instance,  the  course  of  a  river  eating  away  the  soil, 
and  creating  picturesque  windings,  where  formerly  none 
existed  ;  or  the  growth  of  a  great  national  idea,  and  still 
more  the  influence  of  mind  on  mind.  Many  sow  the  seed 
who  are  not  destined  to  reap  the  harvest.  Thus  the 
intercourse  primarily  with  Mr.  Giuliani,  and  secondarily 
with  the  Ponsonbys,  was  giving  to  Lill  a  wider  mental 
view,  a  clearer  perception  of  good  and  evil.  She  began 
to  live  under  more  delicate  laws  than  those  which  had 
ruled  her  when  she  first  came  to  Paris.  One  proof  of 
this  was,  that  her  belief  that  she  had  a  right  to  meet 
tyranny  by  cunning  was  uprooted.  She  would  not  for 
the  world  that  Mr.  Giuliani  should  know  of  her  manage- 
ment with  regard  to  her  lessons.  She  acknowledged  to 
herself  that  she  needed  a  firm  hand  to  guide  and  protect 
her  from  the  sallies  of  her  own  imagination. 

]iut  the  pleasant  intercourse  alluded  to  above,  had 
come  to  an  end.  Mr.  Giuliani's  renewed  reserve  held 
out  against  the  winning  kindness  of  Lill's  manner.  The 
same  incident  had  affected  them  differently;  his  pride 
had  enlisted  itself  on  the  side  of  his  judgment.  He 
fancied  that  the  greater  gentleness  he  observed  in  his 
pupil,  immediately  after  her  visit  to  his  apartments,  was 
the  effect  of  compassion  ;  that  the  vanishing  of  that  little 
asperity  with  which  she  had  seasoned  their  argumeuts, 
denoted  that  she  no  longer  spoke  to  him  as  an  equal  ; 
he  must  show  her  that  he  would  neither  permit  her  to  be 
his  benefactress,  nor  to  patronize  him;  and  accordingly 
he  stiffened  himself  once  more  into  the  character  of  8 
pedagogue. 


88  WnO  BREAKS — PAYS. 

Lill,  distanced  bj-  tliis  invulnerable  reserve,  began  to 
care  less  for  her  lessons ;  she  resolved  to  take  no  more 
after  the  end  of  the  second  dozen.  She  began  even  te 
reckon  on  their  close,  though  it  made  her  a  little  melan- 
choly to  think  that  Mr.  Giuliani  had  lost  his  first  good- 
will towards  her.  After  having  thought  over  her 
behaviour  to  him,  she  found  ouly  one  cause  for  self- 
accusation  ;  the  tacit  deception  -practised  against  Sir 
Mark;  but  that  was  no  wrong  surely  to  Mr.  Giuliani. 
She  had,  however,  an  iutuitiuu  that  Giuliani  would  view 
it  as  an  offence. 

Just  as  Lill  was  making  sure  that  her  lessons  would 
be  finished  before  her  grandfather's  arrival,  she  received 
a  second  letter,  notifying  his  iniincdialc  return,  and  de- 
siring Miss  TuftdU  to  provide  a  snuxll  but  elegant  and 
comfortalile  suite  of  rooms  for  a  lady,  a  particular  friend 
of  his.  The  apartment  was  not  to  be  in  the  same  house 
they  occujiied.  but  in  the  vicinity.  Sir  Mark  mentioned 
that  Edward  Tufton  would  accompany  liim  to  Faris. 

Something  in  the  tone  of  this  letter  startled  Lill.  It 
was  less  carefully  worded,  and  she  fancied  she  traced  in 
it  signs  of  disquietude,  as  though  he  were  vexed  or  un- 
easy. 

"I  wonder  who  the  lady  can  be?"  crooned  Miss 
Crumpton.  "It  can't  be  Mrs.  Tufton,  or  he  would  ask 
her  here,  as  Edward  is  coming  over  ;  nor  his  cousin,  Mrs. 
Blake.  She's  too  old  to  travel  ;  besides,  he  hates  her. 
Nur  that  pretty  Miss  Stavely  he  used  to  talk  so  much 
about.  Dr.  Stavely  wouldn't  let  his  daughter  be  in 
apartments  by  herself;  nor — " 

•' Oh  !  CruMimie,"  interrupted  Lill,  "  how  can  you  go 
on  stringing  together  the  most  unlikely  ]>eople  for  Sir 
Mark  to  have  anything  to  do  with  !  Depend  upon  it,  it's 
some  middle-aged  widow  he  fancies  himself  in  love  with." 

"  Lill.  my  dear,  I  wish  you  w(uild  not  talk  in  that 
flighty  manner  aljout  Sir  .Mark.'' 

"  It  does  seem  strange  to  myself  tliat  I  talk  so,"  said 
Lill,  a  little  sadly.  "  I  had  almost  forgotten  my  old 
ways.  You  see  how  easily  1  am  inliuenced;  one  person 
makes  me  good  and  anntlier  liad." 

•' !My  dear,  what  can  be  the  mutter  with  you?"  asked 
Miss  ('rumptou 


CLOUDS.  89 

"It's  the  horrible  channo  I  foresee  in  our  lives. 
Crunimie,  that's  worrj'iiif,^  inc.  However,  we  can't  talk 
about  it  just  now,  I  must  <j-o  and  get  my  books  ready  ;  it 
is'closc  on  Mr.  Giuliani's  hour." 

"  Lill,  I  do  beg  oi"  you  to  give  up  these  Italian  lessons 
before  Sir  Mark  comes;  do.  my  dear  girl,  thoy  will  get 
you  and  me  into  a  scrape  for  no  use  ;  and  Lord  knows 
what  may  be  the  consequence.  You  will  do  me  the 
justice,  my  dear,  to  allow  that  I  always  did  object  to 
them." 

"  I  will  bear  witness  to  that,  Crummie,"  said  Lill." 

"  It's  not  to  save  myself  from  a  little  more  or  less 
rudeness  from  Sir  Mark,  I  say  so,"  replied  Miss  Crump- 
ton  ;  "it's  to  pacify  my  ccmscience.  Now,  Lill,  don't  liy 
off!  listen  to  me.  I  don't  approve  of  Mr.  (jiuliaui,  he 
takes  too  much  on  himself.  I  sit  by  and  see  more  than  * 
you  think  for.  What  business  has  he  always  to  be 
lecturing  and  advising  you?" 

"  You  are  all  wrong,  Crummie,"  said  Lill,  in  a  sort  of 
exhausted  voice  ;  "  but  it  does  not  matter  now.  I  intend 
this  to  be  the  last  lesson.     Are  you  satisfied  ?" 

When  Mr.  (liuliaiii  came  in  he  observed  at  once  the 
disturbed  faces  of  the  two  ladies ;  but  had  he  overheard 
Miss  Crumpton's  opinion  of  him  he  could  not  have  de- 
voted himself  more  carefully  to  the  ostensible  reason  for 
his  being  in  Miss  Tuftoii's  boudoir.  lie  was  patience 
itself  with  the  endless  mistakes  liill  made  ;  he  waited 
cpiietly  to  discover  the  cause  of  her  absence  of  mind, 
which,  as  the  lesson  proceeded,  he  did  not  doubt  re- 
garded himself. 

"  I  have  been  annoyed  this  morning,"  said  Lill,  after 
a  more  glaring  blunder  than  the  preceding  ones. 

"  Only  an  annoyance,  I  trust,  and  not  any  matter  of 
importance,"  he  replied,  calmly. 

She  closed  her  eyes  violently,  to  press  back  the  tears 
of  vexation  that  were  ready  to  fall.  Why  did  he  speak 
in  that  unfeeling  tone,  when  most  of  her  discomfort  was 
about  him  ?  When  she  looked  at  Giuliani  again,  he  saw 
the  repressed  tears  hanging  like  drops  of  dew  on  her 
long  eye-lashes. 

•'  Mr.  Giuliani,"  she  said,  impetuously,  "  may  I  reckon 
on  you  as  a  friend  ?" 

8* 


90  WHO  BREAKS — PAYS. 

He  looked  surprised,  and  a  shade  of  distrust,  innate 
and  comraou  to  all  Italians,  darkened  his  face  as  he 
answered.  — 

"  In  as  far  as  your  Italian  master  can  presume  to  be 
your  friend.  Miss  Tufton." 

Lill  more  and  more  dissatisfied,  said  petulantly  — 

"  Had  Miss  Ponsonby  asked  you  the  same  question, 
that  is  not  the  answer  you  would  have  made." 

"  It  is  so  different,"  he  said,  gently. 

Lill  sat  silent,  patting  the  book  before  her  with  her 
pencil-case,  greatly  minded  to  tell  him  frankly  how  she 
had  acted  with  regard  to  her  lessons ;  but  she  dreaded 
his  keen  way  of  going  to  the  bottom  of  every  subject, 
and  feared  to  give  him  an  opportunity  of  making  h^r 
own  that  she  had  taken  lessons,  because  she  wanted  to 
"pay  back  the  opera  ticket,  knowing  him  to  be  so  poor. 

He,  on  his  side,  studied  her  face,  which  was  an  honest 
witness  to  some  struggle  going  on  in  her  mind.  Observ- 
ing, however,  that  Miss  Crumpton's  attention  was  excited 
by  the  protracted  silence,  he  said,  — 

"  Forgive  what  may  have  seemed  a  churlish  reply  to  a 
question  which  only  does  me  too  much  honour.  I  am 
ready  to  serve  you  to  the  utmost  of  my  power." 

"  Thank  you ;  I  asked  you  if  I  might  reckon  on  you  as 
a  friend  because  I  am  going  — "  She  began  again. 
""What  I  wish  is,  that  you  should  not  quarrel  with  me 
or  consider  me  capricious,"  another  pause.  At  last  she 
added,  "  1  don't  think  1  must  take  any  more  lessons." 

He  was  really  astonished,  and  recollecting  the  appear- 
ance of  disturbance  in  the  two  ladies  when  he  arrived, 
he  felt  sure  that  l)eliiud  this  sudden  determination  there 
lurked  something  painful  or  od'ensive  to  himself.  Main- 
taining, however,  a  composed  exterior,  he  drew  out  his 
memorandum-book,  glanced  over  it,  and  remarked, — 

"In  fact,  you  have  only  two  more  lessons  of  the  second 
dozen  to  receive." 

"  Can  I  have  a  double  lesson  to-day  and  to-morrow  ?" 
in(|uired  Lill,  with  growing  emluirrassment. 

(iiiiliani  could  not  resist  saying, — 
"Are  yon  going  to  leave  Faris?"  and  as  he  spoke,  hia 
lieiirt  contracted  with  a  spasm. 

"  No,  not  yet;"  then  hurriedly,  as  if  compelled  hy  tho 


CLOUDS.      '  91 

interron^ative,  searching  gaze  of  his  eye,  she  stammered 
out,  "  Sir  Mark  is  coming  back  directly." 

Giuliani  understood  it  all  in  a  minute. 

"And  you  are  afraid  of  his  finding  mc  here  ?"  She 
did  not  answer,  "  I  should  bo  sorry  to  be  the  cause  of 
any  dilemma  to  you  ;  to  myself,  the  game  of  oache-cache 
is  peculiarly  distasteful !" 

lie  was  standing  up  hat  in  hand,  silent  and  abashed, 
Lill  placed  a  tiny  packet  on  the  table,  similar  to  the  one 
she  had  given  him  at  the  end  of  her  first  dozen  lessons. 
He  opened  the  paper,  saw  within  throe  napoleons. 

"Ten  lessons  only,  Miss  Tufton,"  and  he  laid  down 
two  five  franc  pieces  before  her,  blessing  Providence 
that  he  happened  to  have  them  to  return. 

With  a  bow  to  Lill,  and  one  to  Miss  Crumpton,  he 
was  gone. 

"  There,  we  have  banished  a  real  gentleman,  Crummie 
dear !"  said  Lill,  protecting  her  face  from  her  chape- 
rone's  scrutiny  by  looking  out  of  the  window.  "  We  see 
so  many  in  Sir  Mark's  house,  that  we  can  easily  spare 
one  from  the  number."  Suddenly  raising  her  voice  from 
quiet  'rony  to  passionate  excitement,  she  went  on ;  "  Do 
you  know,  cousin  Crumpton,  you  are  my  Mephistopheles. 
I  should  never  have  had  the  audacity  to  do  what  1  have 
done  to-day  to  shelter  myself,  but  for  you  and  your  ter- 
rified face." 

Miss  Crumpton  shook  her  head,  and  sat  patiently 
enduring  the  storm  —  truth  to  say,  so  relieved  by  the  re- 
nunciation of  the  Italian  lessons  as  to  be  case-proof 
against  anything,  Lill  might  say ;  but  Lill  gathered  her 
books  together  iu  silence,  a  great  knot  tightening  her 
throat  as  she  closed  Dante. 

"  There's  an  end  of  one  piece  of  happiness,"  was  her 
inward  ejaculation.  Then  unable  any  longer  to  bear 
the  sight"  of  Miss  Crumpton  trying  to  look  sympathizing, 
and  yet  with  her  attention  engrossed  by  her  work,  she 
retreated  to  her  own  bedroom.  She  stared  long  out  of 
the  window,  wondering  at  those  numerous  strangers  who 
pass  —  pass  perpetually  through  the  streets  of  a  great 
town,  wondering  what  their  aim,  for  what  th(>ir  eager 
movements  on  foot,  on  horseback,  in  carriages,  thinking 
that  perhaps  they  were  all  straining  after  some  luxury 


92  WHO   BREAKS — PAYS. 

some  pleasure.  She  felt  a  sort  of  constcraation,  know- 
m<x  those  so  busied  mortals  to  be  also  immortals.  IIow 
strangely  iusignificant  wore  those  houses  called  mansions 
and  hotels,  merely  larger  nests  than  the  birds  make ! 
How  high  the  skies  above  the  loftiest !  how  puzzling 
that  for  this  crowd,  and  other  similar  crowds,  running 
aces  after  such  puerile  prizes,  a  Supreme  Being  shuuld 
nave  suffered  in  order  that  they  should  inhabit  the  same*' 
Heaven  as  Himself. 

Be  grateful  Lill  to  Giuliani.  Let  the  tears  drop 
swiftly  from  your  eyes  for  the  loss  of  his  society;  he 
has  aright  to  your  eternal  gratitude  ;  he  has  taught  you 
to  raise  your  eyes  above  the  sky  Hue  that  has  hitherto 
been  their  boundary. 

Ruth,  her  maid,  came  to  inquire  at  what  hour  Miss 
Tufton  \v()\ild  rcrpiire  the  carriage. 

"  I  shall  not  want  it  to-day,"  she  said,  without  turning 
from  the  window. 

No  sooner  was  Ruth  gone  than  she  repented  her  deci- 
sion. Wiuit  was  she  to  do  with  the  artornoou?  She 
was  disinclined  for  everything  that  had  occu])ied  her 
yesterday  or  the  day  before.  She  went  to  lunch  with 
the  wish,  uufelt  for  weeks,  that  some  one  would  call. 

Miss  Cruinpton  took  tlie  opportnnily  of  reniiiidiug  her 
of  Sir  Mark's  commission.  No,  Lill  could  uot  be  worried 
with  that  to-day.  The  letter  had  only  arrived  in  the 
morning,  next  day  would  be  time  enougli ;  well  !  perhaps 
she  might  go  and  ask  .Mrs.  Caledun,  if  slie  could  recom- 
nu'mi  her  any  a])artments. 

Mrs.  Caledon  was  at  home,  and  held  Miss  Tufton's 
two  hands  in  hers  to  express  her  joy  at  seeing  the  dear 
girl  again  ;  such  a  stranger  as  she  had  lately  been  I  lyill 
could  not  return  this  warmtli,  and  ill  at  ease  witli  her- 
self, she  was  ill  at  ease  with  others.  She  set  aside  Mrs. 
Caledon's  coaxing  ways,  and  al)ru})tly  entered  on  the 
subject  that  had  brought  her  there.  'I'lie  good-natured 
woman  was  full  of  c}ni)resscm(iit  to  li(>lp  in  ol)taining 
th(!  reipiired  ajiartnu'iits  for  the  "Aiionyma,"  as  she 
nicknamed  Sir  Mark's  mysterious  friend.  She  recol- 
Icctcd  having  seen  a  dcligiitful  entresol  in  the  Rue  de  la 
Madeleine,  the  very  thing  for  a  single  laily.  "  It  Inid 
lliin  advantage,  it  hail  /luil  cninenience  ;  and  really  the 


CLOUDS.  93 

person  who  wished  to  lot  it,  was  so  charming  and  de- 
lightlul,  quite  a  lady.  She  had  a  son  in  Algiers,  and 
the  way  she  spoke  of  her  dear  soldier,  and  the  way  she 
dcscrilied  her  leelinoi?,  the  feelings  of  a  mother  separated 
from  her  son,  actually  made  her  cry,"  wound  up  Mrs. 
Caledon,  her  eyes  ready  to  do  homage  again  to  the  in 
teresting  lodging-keeper's  eloquence. 

Mrs.  Caledon's  couleur  de  rose  representations  set 
Lill's  teeth  on  edge,  who  was  just  now  looking  at  every- 
thing through  a  very  black  medium:  with  irrepressible 
impatience  she  replied,  — 

"  If  it  wore  paradise  itself,  my  dear  Mrs.  Caledon,  and 
the  landlady  an  angel,  it  can't  do ;  I  explained  to  you 
that  Sir  Mark  particularized  that  the  apartment  was  to 
be  near  us :"  she  jumped  up  with  the  intention  of  going 
away. 

"And  you  really  have  no  idea  who  the  lady  is?"  in- 
quired Mrs.  Caledon  for  the  third  time. 

"  We  have  been  puzzling  over  it  all  the  morning," 
here  put  in  Miss  Crumpton.  "  Miss  Tuftou  says  it  can't 
be  Mrs.  Blake  nor  Mrs.  Tufton." 

"  Nor  any  one  we  ever  heard  of,"  interrupted  Lill. 

Mrs.  Caledon  now  began  to  discern  the  cloud  on  her 
young  visitor's  brow,  and  being  a  wonderfully  penetrating 
woman,  she  guessed  that  it  was  caused  by  the  young 
lady's  jealousy  of  any  strange  influence  over  Sir  Mark. 
Her  next  remark  showed  where  her  ideas  were;  shesaid, — 

"  Sir  Mark  is  certainly  very  young-looking  of  his  age." 

"  Seventy  next  birthday,"  pronounced  Miss  Crumpton. 

"  Ah  !  then  I  think  you  may  make  yourself  easy  about 
the  occupant  of  the  apartment,  my  dear  Miss  Tufton. 
It's  not  likely  at  that  age,  and  it's  just  as  well — men  are 
so  very  contradictory — not  to  seem  apprehensive  of  any- 
thing of  that  sort ;  you  understand  me,  dear  !" 

No,  Lill  did  not  understand,  and  did  not  care  to  un- 
derstand ;  she  thought  Mrs.  Caledon  more  incoherent 
and  more  stupid  than  usual. 

Other  visitors  came  in,  and  Mrs.  Caledon  wont  through 
a  similar  ceremony  to  that  she  had  used  with  Miss  'I'uf- 
ton,  holding  their  two  hands,  and  reproaching  them  with 
their  long  absence,  and  exclaiming  at  her  joy  in  seeing 
them,  and  at  thc.'r  goodness  in  coming  to  see  her. 


94  WHO  BREAKS — PAYS. 

In  Lill's  state  of  raiud  it  was  like  a  scene  in  a  comedy, 
meant  to  caricature  the  empty  inflation  of  worldly  inter- 
course, yet  she  had  witnessed  many  similar  displays 
without  any  such  disgust.  She  must  play  her  part 
though,  for'  Mrs.  Caledon  was  relating  how  her  dear 
young  friend  was  seeking  for  a  pleasant,  small  apartment, 
for  a  lady  coming  to  Paris.  But  it  must  be  in  the  Champs 
Elys6es.  Ah  !  but  for  that  condition  each  of  the  new- 
comers had  one  to  recommend. 

Lill  hereupon  deliberately  rose  ;  Mrs.  Caledon  in  a 
half  pathetic  voice  found  fault  with  her  for  being  in  a 
hurry;  the  last  words  almost  doubling  the  length  of  the 
visit. 

The  instant  Lill  returned  home,  she  made  out  a  list  ol 
books,  and  despatched  one  of  the  footmen  to  Cxalignani's  ; 
no  use  to  bring  her  the  first  and  second  volumes  of  any- 
thing, she  must  have  a  whole  set  at  once.  She  felt  as  if 
she  should  read  all  night.  The  book  sent  to  her  was. 
Alton  Locke ;  it  was  one  that  six  months  previous  slie 
would  never  have  read  fifty  pages  of,  as  at  that  time,  as 
we  know  already,  she  never  read  anything  except  wliat 
she  called  "  interesting  scenes."  The  page  at  which  the 
book  opened,  at  once  fixed  her  attention.  Surely  these 
were  the  very  same  opinions  she  had  heard  at  the  Pon- 
sonbys' ;  tlien  there  were  other  people,  and  downright 
English  people  also,  who  had  such  sentiments  about  the 
poor  and  the  rich.  Hitherto,  thougli  half  inclined  to 
believe  that  the  Ponsonbys  and  her  Italian  master  might 
be  sometimes  right,  still  in  h(>r  heart  of  hearts  there  iiad 
lurked  a  suspicion  that  their  ideas  were  very  extravagant, 
and  terribly  republican.  Lill's  notions,  by  the  by.  of  re- 
publicanism were  drawn  from  descriptions  she  had  read 
of  scenes  in  the  American  senate-house,  and  from 
satirical  works  on  the  habits  of  those  on  the  other  side 
of  the  Atlantic. 

In  Alton  Locke  were  the  same  prophecies  of  evils  to 
come  from  tiu!  terrible  iiuMiualities  of  class  and  wealth, 
the  same  deprecations  of  the  consetiuences,  slie  had 
listened  to  at  the  Ponsonbys'.  The  more  she  read,  the 
more  the  conviction  grew  that  Giuliani  and  the  Ponson- 
bys were  better  and  wiser  than  those  of  her  own  .society, 
for  Lill  was  thoroughly  patriotic,  and  this  endorsemeul 


CLOUDS.  95 

of  thoir  opinions  by  an  Englisliman  gave  a  validity  to 
the  sentiments  of  her  new  acquaintances.  She  read  on 
till  the  small  hours  of  the  night,  and  mixing  with  the 
interest  of  her  book,  ran  an  under-current  of  vexation, 
sorrow,  and  scorn,  at  the  pettiness  of  her  own  conduct 
that  morning.  After  her  bravado,  too,  that  she  should 
defy  Sir  Mark  on  the  subject  of  her  Italian  lessons,  to 
have  lowered  her  flag  before  a  shot  was  fired.  She  really 
could  not  explain  to  herself  her  sudden  fit  of  cowardice 
— it  had  been  a  panic. 

Lill  went  to  bed  in  a  sort  of  despair,  but  the  morning 
liglit  inspired  a  more  hopeful  view  of  the  case.  She 
would  go  to  Lady  Ponsonbyand  tell  her  the  exact  truth 
from  beginning  to  end,  and  beg  her  ladyship  to  ask  Mr. 
Giuliani  to  forgive  and  make  friends  with  her.  After 
having  on  the  preceding  evening  viewed  her  faiilt  as  ir- 
reparable, she  now  each  moment  believed  it  easy  of 
remedy.  No  sooner  did  she  begin  to  be  reconciled  with 
herself,  than  she  considered  that  Giuliani  would  be 
reconciled  to  her  also.  What  did  she  know  yet  of  those 
stings  to  a  man's  self-respect  or  self-love,  which  are  more 
difficult  to  forgive  than  the  theft  of  half  one's  fortune  ? 

At  breakfast  Lill  told  Miss  Crumpton  of  her  intention 
to  call  early  on  Lady  Ponsonby:  that  she  should  go 
thither  in  a  hackney  coach,  and  be  back  in  time  to  hunt 
for  lodgings  in  the  afternoon. 

Miss  Crumpton  said  nothing,  as  usual,  but  she  ate  her 
toast  witli  an  air  of  meditation  which  made  her  silence 
indicative  of  the  contrary  of  consent.  Lill  unfortunately 
for  herself,  was  one  of  those  who  always,  even  when 
taking  her  own  way,  desired  that  those  about  her  should 
approve  of  what  she  did.  Many  rash,  even  bold  acts 
was  she  guilty  of;  but  she  was  timid  at  heart,  and  ex- 
tremely alive  to  disapprobation.  The  weakest  person, 
one  for  whose  judgment  she  had  no  respect,  and  for  Miss 
Crumpton's  she  certainly  had  none,  even  one  against 
whom  she  rebelled  as  she  did  against  Sir  Mark,  had 
nevertheless  always  the  power  to  make  her  waver  in  her 
purposes. 

"  Why  don't  you  like  the  Ponsonbys.  Crummie  ?"  she 
now  asked,  in  consequence  of  the  old  lady's  taciturn  op- 
position. 


96  WHO  BKKAKS — PATS. 

"  If  I  am  to  speak  frankly,  my  love,  because  they  are 
not  like  other  people  :  really  one  does  not  know  Mhat  to 
talk  to  them  about.  Miss  Ponsonby  puts  on  a  look,  if 
one  but  hap})eus  to  speak  of  dress,  as  if  it  were  an  im- 
proper subject  for  a  woman.  There's  always  something 
queer  about  clever  ladies  ;  and  when  I  was  a  girl  I  re- 
member being  advised  to  keep  clear  of  them.  In  a  book 
I  was  reading  the  other  day  it  was  remarked,  that  it  was 
a  positive  blessing  now-a-days  to  find  a  woman  who 
could  do  nothing.  Sir  Mark  for  one  cannot  endure 
learned  ladies ;  and  my  poor  father  used  to  say,  that 
when  a  woman  had  so  much  head  she  had  precious  little 
heart." 

The  spell  that  had  been  cast  by  the  old  lady's  silence, 
was  broken  by  her  locpiacity,  and  Lill  sent  for  a  coach 
and  proceeded  alone  to  call  on  Lady  Ponsonby.  Till 
she  heard  that  her  ladyship  was  at  home,  she  had  never 
had  any  doubts  as  to  her  reception ;  when  it  flashed  on 
her,  that  perhaps  Mr.  Giuliani  had  complaiiuHl  of  her, 
and  they  would  perhaps  be  very  angry  with  her,  she  felt 
inclined  to  run  away  again. 

"I  have  come  to  complain  of  your  friend,  Mr.  Giu- 
liani, Lady  Ponsonby,"  said  Lill,  with  not  a  bad  as- 
sumption of  fine  lady  indiflereuce  as  she  entered  the 
room. 

"  Indeed !  how  can  he  have  deserved  your  blame  ?" 
asked  her  ladyship  in  a  soft  access  of  reproach. 

Alicia,  who  luul  liut  one  vea  and  one  nav,  looked  the 
serious  displeasure  she  felt. 

"Now,  Lady  Ponsonl>y.  tell  me,"  went  on  Liil,  "  has 
Mr.  Giuliani  told  you  of  our  cpiarrel  ?" 

"  Of  no  quarrel,  my  dear  child,  l)ut  of  aliltle  misunder- 
standing caused  l>y  a  kind  heart  and  a  giddy  head," 
returned  her  ladyship. 

"  Yes,  that  is  it  exactly,"  said  Lill.  won  into  candor 
and  gentleness  by  the  tone  of  Lady  Ponsonby's  voice. 
"You  take  all  nauglitiness  out  of  me,  dear  Lady  Pon- 
8onl)y.  J>ut  I  meant  no  harm,  no  disrespect  to  Mr. 
Giuliani,  I  assure  you." 

I  am  certain  you  did  not:  but  why  make  any  mystery 
of  so  simple  an  act  as  having  a  few  Italian  lessons? 

"You  don't  know  Sir  Mark,  Lady  Ponsonby:"  here 


CLOUDS.  97 

there  was  a  little  panse.  "May  I  tell  you  quite  the 
truth,  you  won't  be  angry,  nor  Miss  Ponsonby  neither  ?" 
Encouragcfl  by  icindly  assurances  lAW  said,  "  I  wanted 
to  help  Mr.  Giuliani;  I  have  never  done  any  good  in 
my  life,  and  1  wished  to  make  up  to  him  for  having 
forced  him  to  buy  that  foolish  opera  ticket;  and  Sir 
Mark  would  have  insulted  him,  had  he  met  him  giving 
me  lessons,  perhaps,  not  even  let  me  pay  him  :"  Lill's 
delicate  complexion  crimsoned  more  and  more  with 
every  word  she  spoke.  "  I  don't  know  how  it  is,"  she 
added,  "but  everything  I  try  to  do  right,  turns  out 
wrong  :  I  am  so  sorry." 

"  Poor  child  !  I  am  sure  you  are ;  I  will  undertake  to 
set  everything  right  between  you  and  Mr.  Giuliani." 

"  You  must  not  tell  him  that  I  took  the  lessons  to 
give  him,  money — oh !  pray  don't ;  I  would  rather  he 
thought  ill  of  me  all  my  life." 

"  You  are  a  dear,  generous-hearted  creature,"  said 
Lady  Ponsonby.  "  Trust  me,  my  child,  I  will  not  hurt 
our  friend's  feelings ;  I  believe  he  will  be  so  comforted 
to  have  you  vindicated,  that  he  will  not  be  at  all  sensi- 
tive as  to  your  wish  to  assist  him.  Have  you  no  idea 
how  painful  it  is  to  suspect  a  friend  of  being  unworthy 
of  our  esteem  ?" 

"  You  don't  think  he  will  mind  my  trying  to  help 
him  ?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  interrupted  Alicia.  "  Mr.  Giuliani  gave 
you  instruction  against  its  current  price  in  francs.  He 
is  therefore  under  no  obligation :  you  did  not  give  him 
money  without  having  more  than  an  equivalent.  His  is 
a  commerce  as  respectable  as  any  in  the  world,  though 
perhaps  the  least  lucrative.  And  as  to  his  feeling  any 
inferiority,  because  he  is  a  teacher — I  confess  /  feel  the 
superiority  to  be  all  on  his  side,  inasmuch  as  knowledge 
and  the  experiences  of  a  hard-spent  but  honorable  life 
are  superior  to  the  white  paper  of  a  girlish  mind.  I 
don't  ask  you  to  adopt  my  theories,  however ;  indeed 
one  is  always  wrong  to  borrow  other  people's  ideas." 

"  I  never  dreamed  of  Mr.  Giuliani's  being  inferior  to 
me,  Miss  Ponsonby  ;  I  know  he  is  a  gentleman  born.  I 
am  very  sorry  for  the  instant's  pain  I  gave  ;  and  I  would 
ask  his  pardon,  but  he  will  not  give  me  an  opportunity," 

9 


98  WHO  BREAKS — PAYS. 

"  There  is  no  necessity  for  making  windmills  inta 
giants,"  said  Lady  Ponsonby ;  "  and  that  is  what  I  think 
we  are  doing  now." 

"  Tell  Mr.  Giuliani,  I  do  beg  he  will  come  and  see 
me,"  was  Lill  Tufton's  whispered  request  as  she  took 
leave  of  Lady  Ponsonby. 


MAN    PROPOSES.  99 


CHAPTER    XV. 

Man  proposes. 

In  answer  to  Lady  Ponsonby's  explanation,  Giuliani 
eplicd  :  "  I  see  that  in  being  so  angry  I  have  been  more 
childish  than  my  poor  pupil.  It  is  better  to  be  born 
lucky  than  wise  ;  and  Miss  Tuiton  and  I  have  had  a 
fortunate  escape  out  of  a  false  position.  Be  so  good, 
my  dear  friend,  as  to  make  my  a])ologies  to  the  young 
lady  for  my  rough  behaviour,  and  assure  her  of  my  en- 
tire respect." 

When  he  was  gone  Alicia  observed  : 

"  He  feels  it  more  than  he  would  have  it  imagined." 

"  Better  the  acquaintance  should  end  now  than  later," 
said  her  mother. 

"  It  is  not  this  rupture  that  will  end  it,"  was  what 
Alicia  thought,  but  did  not  say. 

This  explanation,  coupled  with  several  messages  from 
Lill,  caused  the  Italian  a  great  contention  of  mind.  His 
excessive  annoyance  at  her  conduct  supplied  a  gauge 
by  which  he  could  measure  the  attraction  she  had  for 
him.  He  was  no  boy,  unaccustomed  to  reflect  on  his 
actions  and  to  weigh  their  probable  consequences.  He 
turned  the  subject,  therefore,  of  any  further  intercourse 
with  Miss  rufton  round  and  round,  viewing  it  in  many 
lights.  Though  a  man  not  to  abuse  the  opportunities 
afforded  him  as  a  teacher,  yet  once  freed  from  the  re- 
sponsibility of  what  he  considered  a  post  of  confidence, 
nothing  but  his  own  will  need  prevent  him  from  openly 
wooing  her,  as  any  other  man  of  her  acquaintance  might 
do.  In  seeking  her  love,  he  should  break  none  of  God's 
commandments,,  he  made  light  of  the  world's  law,  that 
none  but  the  rich  should  mate  with  the  rich.  Except  in 
fortune  there  was  no  other  inequality  of  circumstances 
between  them.     He  was  as  well  born,  as  well  educated. 

Giuliani  had  no  want  of  manly  self-reliance.  He 
would  have  no  fear  to  take  a  woman's  hand  in  his,  and 
bid  her  trust  to  him  for  everything;  he  was  capable  of 
gaining  the  daily  bread  of  two  as  well  of  one.  But  not 
that   of  a  woman  like   Sir  Mark's  granddaughter ;  the 


100  WHO   BREAKS — PATS. 

whole  of  the  emoluments  of  that  professorship  he  ex- 
pected  shortly  to  be  oftercd  to  hira,  would  not  suffice  to 
procure  her  the  half  of  the  daily  comforts  she  was  ac- 
customed to,  setting  aside  the  luxuries. 

There  was  nothing  of  morbid  punctiliousness,  nor  of 
overstrained,  sickly  sensibility,  when,  after  summing  up 
the  pleadings  of  his  judgment  against  those  of  his  heart, 
he  decided  on  avoiding  beautiful  Miss  Tufton  for  tha 
future.  The  recollection  of  her  sweet  face,  her  winning 
voice,  her  pretty  playful  ways,  went  with  him  wherever 
he  went.  Charming,"^  most  charming  as  she  was,  dear, 
most  dear,  as  she  was  ;  gentle,  nay,  he  might  without 
lack  of  reverence  for  her,  add,  encouraging  as  her  man 
ner  to  him  had  been,  he  nevertheless  would  renounctj 
all  effort  to  win  her.  The  barrier  built  up  by  their 
different  ways  of  thinking,  by  their  different  appreciation 
of  things,  by  their  different  habits  and  requirements,  by 
their  nuitual  national  prejudices,  strong  in  both,  was 
one  that  love  would  never  overthrow.  He  allowed  to 
himself  that  there  was  small  hope  of  such  discord  beinjj 
resolvable  into  harmony.  He  should  fail  to  make  her 
happy.  Love  combated  love.  The  idea  of  her  having 
to  suffer  in  the  future,  opposed  his  desires  in  the  present 
If  not  wholly  responsible  for  the  birth  of  his  passion,^  h<j 
was  entirely  responsible  for  its  consequences.  This 
was  the  moment  to  decide  whether  to  allow  of  its 
growth,  to  assist,  as  it  wore,  his  own  defeat,  or  to  resi&t 
with  the  utmost  vigor  of  his  soul. 

Most  young  women  have  a  notion  that  the  man  who 
does  not  allow  his  feelings  to  master  his  judgment,  who 
respects  propriety  or  "justice,  or  any  social  claims, 
including  their  own,  must  be  a  sorry  lover.  However, 
disciplined  habits  of  thought,  and  a  cultivated  love  of 
justice,  arc  not  bad  foundations  to  build  happiness  on. 
But  this  is  a  mere  story,  and  not  a  book  of  good  advice. 


WOMAN    DISPOSES  101 

CHAPTER    XVI. 

Woman  Disposes. 

LiT,L  was  not  satisfied  by  the  polite  messages  she  re- 
ceived in  return  for  the  explanation  Lady  Ponsouby  had 
given  Mr.  Giuliani.  Lill  liked  her  master ;  he  was  the 
first  clever  man  with  whom  she  had  ever  been  on  inti- 
mate terms.  At  eighteen  a  beautiful  girl  seldom  hears 
much  else  from  the  men  she  meets  than  compliments, 
even  though  they  may  have  the  largest  and  longest  of 
heads.  Lill  had  never  been  argued  with  as  Mr.  Giuliani 
had  argued  with  her.  He  had  treated  her  in  all  their 
discussions  as  an  equal.  When  she  opposed  his  opinions, 
he  supported  his  arguments  warmly,  hitting  hard,  as 
though  he  had  been  discussing  a  point  with  another 
man.  She  had  been  first  startled,  then  flattered,  by  this 
treatment.  The  more  independent  he  was  with  her,  the 
more  pleasant  and  gentle  her  manner  had  been  to  him. 
He  had  often  been  on  the  verge  of  losing  his  head  in 
her  society,  but  in  the  moment  of  peril,  some  little  word 
spoken  with  the  unconsciousness  of  habit,  had  reminded 
him  his  pupil  was  the  fashionable  Miss  Tufton. 

As  he  had  written  in  his  diary,  had  he  been  twenty-one 
instead  of  thirty-one,  he  might  have  been  a  happy  block- 
head. Experience  of  life  is  a  great  rival  to  love,  and 
Giuliani,  with  his  terribly  acute  sight,  had  seen  and  did 
see  so  many  weaknesses  clothed  in  the  garb  of  amiabili- 
ties, and  accepted  as  such,  that  he  was  grown  apt  to 
judge  severely. 

To  all  Lady  Ponsonby's  assurances,  that  Miss  Tufton 
was  sincerely  distressed  at  his  avoidance  of  her,  he  re- 
plied,— 

"  Mere  matter  of  self-love ;  she  is  not  accustomed  to 
opposition  from  her  male  acquaintances,  and  my  resist- 
ance causes  her  attack.  Let  me  guide  this  matter  to  a 
safe  haven." 

But  Lill  was  obstinate,  and  like  a  child  as  she  was, 
determined  to  see  him  again,  and  make  friends.  So 
many  were  her  visits  to  T^ady  Ponsouby,  that  at  length 
one  day  she  did  meet  the  Italian.     He  on  his  side,  had 

9* 


102  WHO  BR  [OAKS PATS. 

heard  the  carriage  stop  at  the  door.  Philosophic  Mr, 
Giuliani  recognized  the  peculiar  sound  of  those  wheels, 
the  trot  of  that  special  pair  of  horses,  and  he  hastily 
took  leave  of  Alicia  who  was  alone  at  home.  He  was 
issuing  on  to  the  landing-place  just  as  Lill  reached  it. 
He  could  not  close  the  door  of  the  apartment  in  her  face 
he  must  hold  it  open  to  allow  her  to  pass. 

She  had  run  up  the  stairs  so  fast,  she  was  so  surprised, 
so  overjoyed  to  see  him,  that  she  had  scarcely  any  breath 
to  speak  with  —  only  enough  to  say,  with  outstretched 
hands, — 

"  Oh !  stay  a  minute,  Mr.  Giuliani,  I  want  to  say  two 
words  to  you." 

A  party  of  young  people  were  coming  down  from  an 
upper  story.  Giuliani  saw  by  Lill's  eager  look  that  she 
would  speak  then  and  there,  let  Avho  would  be  present. 
There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  reply :  "  I  am  at  your 
service,  Miss  Tufton,"  and  to  motion  to  her  to  enter. 

Alicia,  meanwhile,  had  come  forward  to  receive  the 
visitors  ;  they  were  scarcely  in  the  salon  before  the  im- 
petuous girl  exclaimed. — 

"  Mr.  Giuliani,  pray  forgive  me  !" 

"Ah!  mademoiselle,  you  punish  me,  indeed,  by  using 
such  an  expression  ;"  adding,  with  a  hearty  wish  to  tui-a 
the  matter  into  a  jest:  "The  enraged  master  ought  to 
ask  pardon  of  his  pupil ;  he  is  quite  placable  now,  I 
assure  you." 

"  Why  does  he  not  shake  hands  with  his  pupil  ?" 

"  Y(«u'  honour  me,"  he  said,  slightly  touching  the  little 
gloved  lingers. 

"Now,  "then,"  continued  Lill,  "you  must  promise  to 
come  and  see  me  again." 

Mr.  Giuliani  found  out  that  it  was  one  thing  to  come 
to  a  decision  in  his  own  chanil)er,  and  quite  nnolher  1o 
do  80  witii  a  pair  of  eyes  very  dear  to  him.  pleading  for 
a  favouralik'  answer.     Perplexed,  he  replied, — 

"Tlie  liours  you  had  arc  already  lilled  up,  Miss  Tuf- 
ton." 

"  I  did  not  mean  that  sort  of  visiting,"  said  Lill,  crim 
Bonilig;  "1  meant  y(m  to  come  as  —  Sir  Mark  lias  not 
returned  yet,  wiien  lu>  arrives  lie  will  call  on  you." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Giuliani,  with  an  embarrassracn 


WOMAN    DISPOSES.  103 

that  took  the  appcanuioe  of  pride.     "  Tliank  j-ou  ;  Init  1 
must  decline  the  houuiir  of  a  visit  from  Sir  Mark." 

"Then  you  have  not  really  forgiven  me.  I  will  tell 
him  about  the  lessons,  quite  candidly." 

This  promise,  made  with  the  intention  of  pleasing 
him,  for  he  was  pretty  sure  it  would  be  a  real  self-sacri- 
fice to  confess  what  she  had  done  to  Sir  Mark,  threw 
Giuliani  off  his  guard.  Did  she,  then,  care  so  much  for 
his  society  ? 

It  was  Giuliani's  turn  to  change  colour ;  his  dark 
complexion  grew  darker,  and  a  brown  ring  encircled  hia 
eyes.  Joy  rushed  into  his  soul ;  softened  it ;  laid  it 
oi^en  to  temptation ;  he  made  one  more  struggle. 

Lill's  eyes  looked  at  him  with  some  surprise. 

"  Miss  Tufton,"  he  said,  "  I  am  not  ungrateful  for 
your  kindness,  even  though  I  cannot  accept  it.  It 
would  be  a  legal  fiction,  Sir  Mark  Tufton's  calling  on 
me.  You  know,  and  I  know,  the  estimate  he  has  of  me, 
and  of  my  present  position.  Perhaps  I  have  a  morbid 
susceptibility ;  will  you  be  without  compassion  for  my 
weakness  ?  Come,  you  owe  me  some  indulgence.  I  was 
not  a  severe  master." 

lie  spoke  gaily,  but  his  real  dejection  pierced  through 
the  thin  disguise. 

"  I3ut  if  you  mean  never  to  come  and  see  me,  then 
there  is  an  end  to  our  acquaintance,"  said  pertinacious 
Lill,  glancing  round  the  room  to  avoid  looking  at  him ; 
she  missed  Alicia  and  spoke  more  at  her  ease. 

"  Mr.  Giuliani,  why  do  you  choose  to  be  an  Italian 
master  ?" 

"  Necessity,  not  choice,  makes  me  one." 

Lill  moved  her  shoulders  with  the  contradicting  jerk 
of  an  impatient  child. 

"  And  do  you  mean  to  continue  to  be  one  all  your  life? 
Have  you,  who  profess  to  think  so  much  of  friciidshi]), 
no  feeling  for  the  mortification  you  may  give  your  friends 
and  relations  ?" 

He  laughed. 

"As  for  relations,  it  is  droll  you  should  invoke  my 
forbearance  towards  mine  ;  they  who  Iiave  never  troubled 
their  heads  as  to  whether  I  starved  or  not;  and  as  to 
friends,  dear  young  lady,  I  am  afraid  you  confuse  them 


104  WHO   BREAKS — PATS. 

with  the  mere  companions  of  an  hour.  Friendship  d». 
peuds  on  esteem  and  respect,  and  should  I  not  inevitably 
lose  yours  and  my  own  if  I  became,  under  the  circum- 
stances, one  of  Sir  Mark  Tuftou's  visitors  ?" 

'•  I  don't  see  the  force  of  your  objection  ;  but  you  are 
determined  to  quarrel  with  me,"  w^as  Lill's  answer. 

She  was  pained  and  mortified.  To  persist  any  longer 
would  be  demeaning  herself;  she  turned  away. 

Giuliani's  firmness  was  not  proof  against  the  idea  of 
her  leaving  him  in  anger.    An  evil  fate  lured  him  to  say, — 

"  Be  sure.  Miss  Tufton,  that  if  you  should  ever  stand 
in  need  of  the  services  of  a  devoted  friend  you  will  find 
one  in  me." 

''  Nonsense,"  she  exclaimed,  sharply ;  "  I  am  not  likely 
to  fall  into  the  water  to  be  pulled  out  by  you,  or  my 
horse  to  run  away  with  me,  just  so  that  yon  should  be  on 
the  road  to  stop  it.  nor  to  be  in  a  house  on  fire,  where 
you  will  come  in  the  angelic  shape  of  a  fireman  to  rescue 
me.  I  don't  want  that  sort  of  friendship  which  is  to 
come  out  once  in  a  life,  like  coronation  trappings.  I 
want  society,  and  sympathy,  and  confidence,  such  as  I 
see  you  give  the  Ponsonliys." 

"  I  have  been  intimate  in  this  house  for  years ;  and 
besides  your  orbit  and  mine.  Miss  Tufton.  are  cast  too 
far  apart  to  allow  of  the  iulercourse  you  describe." 

"  You  put  me  out  of  all  patience,  Mr.  Giuliani,  with 
your  prudent  diplomatic  words." 

ile  was  silent. 

Here  a  sudden  thought  flashed  upon  Lill,  and  with  her 
usual  impulsiveness  she  added, — 

"May  I  ask  you  one  question?"  he  bowed.  "Are 
you  and  Miss  Ponsonby  engaged  to  be  married  ?" 

"  God  bless  me,  no,"  replied  Giuliani,  with  frank 
alacrity. 

Alicia,  in  the  next  room,  with  the  door  open  between, 
heard  this  prompt,  decided  answer. 

"  You  seem  to  like  her  very  much." 

"  Certainly  ;  tiiere  is  a  great  conformity  of  tastes  and 
opinions  between  us." 

"  Can  you  not  have  the  courage  to  speak  out  jdainly 
for  once,  Mr.  (iinliani  ?"  said  Lill,  with  growing  asperity 
"How  1  do  hate  and  despise  caution  1" 


WOMAN    DISPOSES  105 

"  Why,  what  in  the  name  of  heaven  would  you  have 
me  say  ?"  asked  he,  with  a  half  smile.  "  I  do  not  know 
myself  what  my  feelings  might  have  been  with  regard  to 
Miss  Fonsouby  had  1  ever  allowed  myself  to  dwell  on 
the  possibility  of  my  having  the  blessing  of  a  companion. 
I  am  too  poor  to  marry;  I  would  never  marry  a  woman 
richer  than  myself;  and  I  am  too  clear-sighted  not  to  be 
aware  that  the  whole  of  my  yearly  gains  would  not 
sufiBce  to  furnish  the  mere  ornaments  ladies  thirk  so 
necessary,"  and  his  eye  glanced  casually  at  the  bracelets 
Lill  was  wearing. 

Lill  impetuously  unclasped  the  two  rich  bracelets,  and 
flung  them  into  the  fire,  saying, — 

"  Ladies  may  wear  them  and  not  value  them." 

"Childish!"  exclaimed  Giuliani ;  but  his  face  flushed, 
and  his  heart  beat  violently :  he  had  a  fierce  struggle 
with  himself  not  to  fall  at  the  feet  of  the  passionate, 
generous  girl,  so  unconscious  of  the  interpretation  that 
might  be  given  to  this  action. 

"If  1  am  childish,  you  are  vindictive,  like  all  Italians; 
you  can't  forgive  me  for  what  in  truth  was  meant  kindly." 

Her  voice  had  that  peculiar  break  in  it  which  tells  of 
repressed  emotion ;  it  forced  itself  into  the  very  citadel 
of  his  will. 

"  You  are  mistaken  in  every  one  of  your  conclusions," 
he  began,  with  some  heat ;  "  there  is  nothing  but  good 
will  towards  you  in  my  heart.  Miss  Tufton;  but  no  woman 
of  sense  and  spirit  would  require  a  man  she  esteemed  to 

Eut  aside  his  own  judgment,  and  be  a  puppet  in  her 
ands." 

Lill's  impetuosity  was  overmastered  by  Giuliani's 
earnestness ;  she  shrank  from  him  with  intuitive  alarm. 
Her  softly  sighed,  "  Oh,  no !"  to  his  question,  and  her 
alteration  of  colour  changed  his  mood. 

He  asked  himself  hastily,  "  Was  this  use  of  feints  to 
escape  danger  nuuily  ?"  Passion  is  the  greatest  of  all 
sophists,  making  men  and  women  do  the  thing  they 
would  not,  and  leave  undone  the  thing  they  would. 

"Speak  out  like  a  man,"  urged  Passion,  on  Giuliani; 
"it's  the  only  way  of  extricating  yourself  honourably 
from  your  dilficulty."  Passion,  to  seduce  her  victim, 
took  the  form  of  Reason. 


106  WHO  BREAKS — PAYS. 

However  others  may  make  us  suffer  we  ought  always 
to  remember  that  the  fault  is  never  confined  entirely  to 
one  side ;  we  may  be  sure  some  laxity  of  our  own  mixes 
in  the  matter.  Mr.  Giuliani  had  always  respected  his 
own  strength  of  purpose,  and  struck  hard  on  any  feeble- 
ness he  saw  in  others.  He  lived  to  be  more  indul- 
gent. 

He  now  fixed  his  eyes  firmly  on  those  of  Lill,  keeping 
them  by  the  force  of  his  will  all  the  time  he  spoke  riveted 
to  his  own.  His  voice  was  firm,  but  the  lurid  red  of  his 
complexion  showed  the  storm  within. 

'■  I  will  be  your  daily,  constant  visitor.  Miss  Tufton,  if 
you  desire  it,  after  you  have  listened  to  me  for  five  min- 
utes. I  will  not  skirmish  any  longer  with  you.  In  plain 
words,  Miss  Tufton,  I  love  you — you  start — I  have  no 
eloquence  to  wrap  ray  meaning  in.  What  I  feel,  if  I 
speak  at  all,  1  speak  candidly,  and  without  palliatives. 
You  wonder  at  my  audacity ;  but,"  and  he  went  on  with 
increasing  force.  "  a  whole,  an  undivided  heart  is  a 
precious  gift,  that  does  not  fall  in  a  woman's  way 
often.  Riches,  beauty,  station  may  all  vanish;  a  true 
heart  knows  no  change.  If  you  think  mine  worth  having, 
take  it.  Have  no  fears  for  the  future  ;  I  will  bear  you 
through  life  more  tenderly  and  softly  than  you  have  yet 
any  idea  of;  if  not,  bid  me  go." 

Words  read  cold  that  spoken  can  cleave  their  way  ir- 
resistible through  the  thickest  coat  of  mail  to  the  heart 
addressed.  Lill  trembled  not  so  much  at  what  Giuliani 
said,  as  at  the  travail  of  soul  that  looked  out  of  the 
depths  of  his  eyes  into  hers,  as  he  laid  his  fate  in  her 
hands.  Herwhole  consciousness  merged  into  the  one  idea 
of  his  pain.  She  could  not  bear  it.  and  with  no  other 
thought  Ihan  of  lhat,,«ihe  remained  stamling  by  his  side; 
remained  willingly  standing  i)y  his  side  ;  her  colour  going 
and  coming,  lovelier  than  he  had  ever  seen  her;  his  soul 
was  entranced  by  her  beauty.  He  did  not  know  her 
Christian  name,  or  it  would  have  sprung  from  his  lips; 
some  inarticulate  sound  did  come  from  them,  more  ex- 
pressive than  any  clearly  uttered  syllable. 

"  Arr.  I  to  go?"  he  said,  after  a  pause  that  seemed  in- 
terminable  to  both. 

"1—1— don't  know,"  she  stammered.    He  studied  her 


WOMAN   DISPOSES.  107 

face  with  all  the  little  presence  of  mind  left  him ;  her 
eyelashes  were  heavy  with  uufallen  tears.  ""X  our  peace 
before  all  other  things,"  he  said  :  "  God  bless  you,  Misa 
Tid'ton." 

"  No,  don't  g'O  in  that  way,  Mr.  Giuliani.  I  cannot 
bear  you  should  go  .away  so." 

"  1  have  no  wish  to  hurry  you,"  he  said  coldly. 

"  Pray,  pray,  don't  speak  to  nie  in  that  tone,"  said 
Lill.     "  I  don't  deserve  it — indeed  I  don't." 

"  I  take  God  to  witness,  I  would  not  even  for  the  pos- 
session of  your  hand,  hurry  you ;  but  I  am  sure  of  this, 
if  you  hesitate,  you  should  say  no.  Resist  the  pity  I  see 
your  gentle  heart  is  moved  by.  Pity  is  not  akin  to  love 
— at  least  I  refuse  all  love  so  born.  Go  home,  Miss 
Tufton,  and  of  all  I  have  said,  remember  only,  that  you 
have  one  more  firm  friend  in  the  world." 

Lill  was  thoroughly  overcome  by  this  resignation ; 
she  did  what  an  inexperienced,  warm-hearted  girl  would 
do,  when  the  man  so  speaking  was  one  whom  she  held  as 
a  sort  of  hero.  She  put  out  her  hand  to  him  with  a  deep 
blush,  and  the  long  repressed  tear-drops  rolled  freely 
over  her  cheeks. 

Giuliani  took  the  pledge  thus  proffered  with  a  feeling 
more  allied  to  pain  than  joy.  He  felt  more  as  if  he  had 
caught  or  snared  some  lovely  timid  thing,  than  that  the 
timid,  lovely  thing  had  come  with  its  large  loving  eyes, 
willingly  to  his  arms  for  love  and  safety.  That  moment, 
single  in  man  or  woman's  life,  when  heart  goes  spon- 
taneously to  heart,  that  moment  which  ought  to  have 
weighed  them  to  the  earth  with  its  freight  of  bliss,  kept 
them  standing  hand  in  hand  like  traflickers,  sealing  a 
bargain.     At  last  he  raised  her  hand  to  his  lips : — - 

"  It  is  an  awful  rcsponsibiliy,"  he  said,  "  to  take  upon 
one-self  to  influence  the  fate  of  a  fellow-being.  God  do 
so  unto  me  as  I  am  true  to  you.  Be  you  so  to  me.  If 
you  repent  of  your  goodness  to  me  this  day,  tell  me  so 
— even  at  the  foot  of  the  altar:"  with  a  sudden,  unusual 
violence,  he  added, — "  I  am  an  excellent  friend,  but  a 
demon  of  a  lover." 

The  sound  of  a  key  turning  in  the  lock  of  the  outer 
door  of  the  apartment,  made  Lill  snatch  her  hand  from 
Giuliani's,  and  seat  herself  on  the  nearest  sofa.     Lady 


108  WHO    BREAKS — PATS. 

Ponsonby  came  in  serene  and  smiling  as   usual — hu* 
stopped  and  asked  in  some  surprise, — 

"  Where  is  Alicia  ?" 

Giuliani  and  Lill  had  forgotten  Miss  Ponsonby  ;  she 
had  slipped  into  an  adjoining  room,  when  the  tone  of 
their  conversation  became  one  to  which  no  third  person 
is  ever  willingly  a  party. 

Giuliani,  like  men  in  general,  had  a  special  horror  of 
explanations,  which  might  involve  any  display  of  emotion 
on  his  part  ;  he  had  no  idea  that  he  could  do  anything 
but  give  a  straightforward  account  of  what  had  just 
passed,  had  no  conception  that  Lady  Ponsonby  was 
acute  enough  to  comprehend  the  situation  without  words. 
So  with  a  hasty  muttering  of  want  of  time,  and  one 
anxious  look  at  Lill,  in  the  hope  of  one  in  return,  he 
fled. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  began  Lady  Ponsonby  to  the 
silent  young  lady,  the  transparent  evenness  of  whose 
checks  was  troubled  by  agitation,  "  Well,  you  have 
made  peace  with  Mr.  Giuliani,  I  see." 

Without  asking  how  Lady  Ponsonby  perceived  this, 
Lill  burst  out  crying  ;  Lady  Pi)nsonby  sat  down  by  her, 
and  taking  one  of  the  little  hands,  began  stroking  it  in 
a  soothing,  caressing  way. 

Not  understanding  that  her  new  secret  was  no  secret 
for  her  friend,  Lill  exclaimed, — 

'•  I  am  stupidly  nervous  to-day,  I'll  go  home  now,  and 
come  back  some  other  day." 

8he  threw  her  arm  round  Lady  Ponsonby's  neck, 
kissing  her  with  tliat  energy  which  betrays  an  inward 
craving  for  help,  l^ady  P(ins(iiil)y  gave  a  caress  in  re- 
turn, full  of  promise  of  the  help  demanded,  and  without 
a  further  question  lot  Lill  go. 

As  soun  as  the  visitor  was  gone,  Alicia  came  from  the 
next  room.  Lady  Ponsonljy  was  about  to  speak,  but 
the  words  died  on  her  lips  at  the  siglit  of  lu'r  ilangliler's 
face,  cpiite  bloodless,  with  a  certain  stony  look  about 
her  mouth.     Alicia  said, — 

"  My  dear  mother,  you  look  at  me  as  if  I  were  a 
ghost." 

The  voice  was  composed,  but  hard,  as  if  it  came  from 
a  dry  Ihroat,  or  from  that  of  a  person  who  has  been  for 


WOMAN    DISPOSES.  109 

hours  silent.  It  cleared  quickly  as  she  went  on.  "  I 
had  to  leave  tlie  door  open  between  the  rooms,  that  I 
might  be  close  at  hand,  in  case  of  some  one  coming  in 
-who  might  gossip  about  the  iUe-oL-t^te.  I  had  no  choice 
left  but  to  overhear  their  conversation." 

Lady  Ponsonby  could  not  give  her  attention  to  what 
Alicia  was  saying.  For  the  first  time  a  most  painful 
suspicion  had  entered  her  mind.  Was  it  possible  that 
under  that  usually  calm  exterior  lurked  concentrated 
passion?  Her  suspicion  became  certainty,  as  Alicia 
went  on  with  tight-drawn  lips  : 

"  He  told  her  he  loved  her ;  it  was  quite  natural  she 
should  do  as  she  has  done.  She  is  a  more  generous- 
hearted  girl  than  T  fancied ;  he  bid  her  beware  of  her 
pity  misleading  her — it  has  misled  them  both.  Oh, 
mother  !  how  I  wish  she  could  have  really  loved  him,  but 
— "  here  the  speaker's  fortitude,  strong  against  her  own 
sorrow,  gave  way  when  fearing  sorrow  for  him. 

Lady  Ponsonby  took  her  daughter  into  her  arms,  and 
Alicia  lay  there,  as  one  thankful  for  so  sure  a  haven  ; 
she  whispered, — 

"  Always  his  friend,  mother,  whatever  happens." 

"  Always,  my  daughter,"  said  the  mother,  fervently. 

How  well  a  mother  knows  how  best  to  comfort  her 
child  i 


110  WHO  BREAKS PAYS. 


CHAPTER  XYII. 

Yes  or  No  ? 

And  Lill,  what  were  her  feelings  during  her  drive 
home  ?  They  were  mute,  quite  mute,  except  insomuch 
as  she  was  longing  to  be  in  her  own  room  locked  in, 
sure  of  no  interruption,  so  that  she  might  think, — she 
wanted  to  think,  to  get  rid  of  the  confusion  in  her  mind; 
no  possibility  of  thinking  in  such  a  distracting  noise. 

The  carriage  was  driving  along  the  Champs  Elys6es, 
bright  with  that  air  of  universal  rejoicing  which  a  fine 
day  in  early  spring  is  sure  to  impart.  Leaves  open  and 
flicker  like  gold  in  the  sunlight,  birds  twitter  and  bury 
themselves  in  the  dust  and  quarrel,  children  laugh  and 
shout  and  scamper,  horses  caper,  shrill  trumpets,  tink- 
ling bells,  mingle  with  street  cries  in  unmusical  but 
cheerful  chorus.  The  sound  of  "  plaisirs,  plaisirs,  mes- 
dames,"  came  back  in  all  her  after  days  of  sorrow. 

Miss  Crnm])ton's  broad  face  within  its  wide  aureole 
of  lace  and  ribl)on  was  looking  forth  as  Lill  alighted.  It 
appeared  to  greet  her  at  the  outer  door  of  the  apart- 
ment, "  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,  my  dear ;  I  was  growing 
uneasy." 

"  Can't  I  be  away  two  hours  without  your  fretting  ? 
one  would  almost  be  glad  not  to  be  cared  about,"  said 
Lill  peevishly :  she  was  thoroughly  unhinged,  poor 
thing.  Miss  Crumpton  made  no  reply,  and  went  quietly 
back  to  the  salon. 

Lill,  sorry  that  she  had  been  cross,  but  too  cross  to 
say  so,  opened  her  room  door;  Ruth  was  sitting  there 
at  work.  "  Oh  !  dear,  it  seems  one  can  never  be  alone," 
cried  Lill.  "  No,  1  don't  want  you  to  take  off  my  cloak," 
continufMl  she  to  licr  maid. 

"  I  have  put  out  your  grey  silk  for  dinner,  Miss 
Tufton." 

"1  shan't  change  my  dress;  do  go  away,  Ruth;  I 
really  should  be  glad  if  1  iniglit  have  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  to  myself." 

Ruth  gathered  up  her  work  with  the  method  and  caro 
of  a  well-trained  lady's-maid  >vbose  business  is  with  her 


TES    OR    NO  ?  Ill 

mistress's  wardrobe,  and  not  witli  her  mistress's  moods. 
Lill  was  read  J-  to  talvC  the  girl  by  the  slioulders  and  turn 
her  out  of  the  room  ;  her  slowness  was  exasperating. 

"  At  last !"  and  the  door  is  double-locked,  the  bonnet 
tossed  off,  and  Lill  lies  back  in  a  large  chair.  She  has 
quiet  enough  to  think  in;  she  tries,  but  it  is  as  difficult 
to  think  to  any  purpose  now  as  it  was  in  the  bustle  of 
the  Champs  Elys6es.  It  was  by  an  exertion  of  will, 
however,  that  one  distinct  impression  was  kept  under ; 
she  dared  not  acknowledge  it, — it  would  be  wicked, 
cruel :  the  mischief  was  done,  and  she  must  abide  by  it. 
What  could  have  made  her  ask  that  question  about  Miss 
Ponsonby  ?  It  was  that  which  brought  it  all  on.  It 
must  have  made  him  think  she  cared  for  him :  0 
heavens  !  and  did  she  not  ? 

Then  came  a  crowd  of  images,  whirling  and  toppling 
over  one  another ;  everything  that  had  been  in  her  world 
was  turned  topsy-turvy. 

"  Is  it  possible  that  it  is  dinner-time  ?"  asks  Lill,  as 
Kuth  knocks  at  the  door  to  tell  her  that  dinner  is  on  the 
table. 

All  through  dinner  Lill  sat  absorbed  in  the  effort  to 
think ;  she  said,  "  Yes,"  and  "  no,"  to  Miss  Crumpton's 
observations,  nevertheless,  with  a  tolerable  correctness. 
After  dinner,  with  the  excuse  of  a  headache,  she  coiled 
herself  on  the  most  distant  sofa  from  her  chaperone,  and 
once  more  gave  herself  up  to  the  hard  task  of  thinking. 
Some  distracting  questions  presented  themselves.  What 
would  Mr.  Giuliani  expect  her  to  do  now  ?  What  would 
he  do  ?  Tell  Sir  Mark  ?  That  was  one  thing  she  might 
be  certain  of.  And  the  consequences  ?  Well,  she  had 
brought  them  on  herself,  and  she  must  take  them,  what- 
ever they  were.  No  doubt  she  would  be  called  a  fool, — 
perhaps  she  had  been  one.  He  was  a  very  good  man, 
far  better  than  she  Avas,  —  very  clever  and  very  much 
respected ;  he  couldn't  be  mistaken,  thank  heavens,  for 
aught  but  a  gentleman.  It  was  very  odd  that  such  a 
marriage  should  be  her  fate;  it  was  about  as  unlikely  a 
thing  as  could  have  been  conceived.  She  recollected 
how  she  used  to  long  for  her  lessons ;  she  had  really 
been  unhappy  when  he  had  quarreled  with  her,  and  yet 
she  certainly  was  not  happy  now  ;  perhaps  it  was  because 


112  WHO    BREAKS — PATS. 

she  was  frightened  at  the  idea  of  what  Sir  Mark  might 
say  or  do. 

Lady  Ponsonby  would  know,  and  Alicia,  and  they 
would  come  and  congratulate  her ;  at  all  events,  they 
would  approve  of  her.  Whenever  Lill  thought  of  Mr. 
Giuliani  in  connection  with  the  Ponsonbys,  her  spirit 
rose,  she  steadied  herself  by  leaning  on  their  liking  and 
estimation  of  (Jiuliani  —  she  even  felt  elated  at  having 
won  the  hero  of  their  circle. 


A    TRUE   I-OVER.  IIJ 

CHAPTER    XYIIT. 

A  True  Lover. 

This  earth  had  siifTered  no  chanj^e  for  Mr.  Giuliani, 
when  he  went  forth  from  Lady  Ponaonby's  house ;  the 
air  was  not  full  of  music,  nor  did  he  perceive  in  it  am- 
brosial odours,  his  step  was  not  elate,  nor  his  head  erect 
with  the  triuniplumt  air  of  one  who  has  been  admitted 
into  the  beloved  one's  heart.  There  was  nothing  about 
him  which  said  to  the  passers-by,  "  Look  at  me ;  she, 
that  lovely  one,  at  whose  feet  the  greatest  might  be 
proud  to  kneel,  is  my  affianced  bride ;  she  has  laid  her 
email  dimpled  hand  in  my  broad  palm,  has  accepted  my 
arm  for  the  support  of  her  life." 

No,  certainly  the  world  had  no  peculiar  air  of  glad- 
ness for  Giuliani,  nor  ho  for  the  world.  ITe  found  no 
difficulty  in  thinking  with  pitiless  logic  over  what  had 
occurred  during  the  last  hour ;  every  gesture  and  word 
of  Lill's  in  that  portentous  conversation  were  present 
to  him,  and  perseveringly  accompanied  by  the  presenti- 
ment of  a  coming  new  misery  in  his  life.  He  was  pur- 
sued by  that  look  of  timid  pity  he  had  caught,  as  it 
entered  her  eyes,  when  he  told  her  that  he  loved  her ;  it 
was  harder  to  bear  than  her  letting  him  go  without  even 
a  parting  glance. 

His  pupils  of  that  day  thought  him  sterner  and  more 
difficult  to  please  than  usual.  One  little  girl,  full  of 
tricks  as  a  pet  monkey,  had  the  glory  of  making  him 
really  angry ;  the  possibility  of  accomplishing  which  had 
been  hitherto  doubted  by  his  classes. 

As  he  left  the  school  he  laughed  inwardly.  Prepos- 
terous !  the  idea  of  his  being  the  accepted  husl^and  of 
that  tine  lady  ^liss  Tufton.  Had  he  been  mad  or  drunk, 
when  he  proposed  anything  so  monstrously  out  of  nature? 
He  was  ashamed  of  himself  and  ashamed  for  her  also; 
could  not  a  woman  then  resist  a  man's  importunity? 
Was  audacity  tlie  one  thing  needful  to  obtain  her  ?  Giu- 
liani was  very  bitter  that  evening;  he  was  mortified  at 
having  let  himself  be  carried  away  by  the  impetuous 
curreni  of  his  own  passions ;  he  would  have  been  grate 

10* 


114  WHO  BREAKS — PATS. 

ful  to  licr;  would  have  ))]acocl  lier  on  a  pedestal  licyond 
all  other  hunian  beings,  had  she  had  the  courage  to  with- 
stand the  weakness  of  her  oAvn  pity. 

He  sunk  in  his  own  osliination  when  he  probed  his 
heart  and  brought  himself  to  confess,  that  it  had  been 
conquered  by  her  beauty,  that  he  could  not  sec  that 
softly  rounded  cheek  with  a  colour  like  that  of  the  outer 
petals  of  a  rose,  those  liquid  eyes  of  the  dark  blue  of 
Italy's  heaven,  the  slender,  exquisitely  rounded  throat, 
the  graceful  little  form,  without  his  soul's  firmness  melt- 
ing as  wax  in  the  sun.  He  worshipped  the  perfect 
temple  without  having  learned  what  gods  dwelt  within. 
For  a  time  he  took  a  revengeful  pleasure  in  bespattering 
himself  with  the  mud  of  mean  motives.  But  the  nearer 
the  hour  to  midnight  the  more  fervently  his  imagination 
worked,  nor  was  liis  will  at  last  strong  enough  to  thrust 
away  Lill's  image.  She  was  so  young,  so  inexperienced; 
what  wonder  if  she  should  be  afraid  to  step  beyond  the 
limits  of  those  conventionalities  she  had  been  bred  up 
to  respect  !  He  had  dene  her  great  injustice  and  conse- 
quently himself.  AVhy  had  he  said  he  was  ignorant  of 
all  but  her  most  perfect  exterior?  Had  he  not  had 
instances  of  her  being  gentle,  pitiful,  teachable  ?  He 
(inarrelled  with  her  l>itying  eyes,  had  wished  them 
haughty  and  forbidding,  had  wished  her  to  show  herself 
unwomanly,  because  he  had  made  a  fool  of  himself. 
Once  on  this  track,  his  fancy,  leaving  fears  far  behind, 
devoured  space  at  a  gallop  towards  hope. 

After  all  these  turns  and  twists  of  feeling  and  thought, 
wearied  in  mind  and  l)ody,  d'iuliani  slept  more  soundly 
than  usual.  A  good  night's  rest  and  a  bright  morning 
are  very  efficient  aids  in  heljjing  mortals  to  a  healthy 
view  of  their  position,  and  to  making  a  healthy  resolu- 
tioti.  (iiuliani  got  up  with  a  clear  perception  of  what 
he  owed  Lill.  Respect  had  always  been  her  due  from 
him,  in)w  he  owed  her  the  homage  of  a  loyal  lover. 
What  though  the  world  would  stamp  his  olTer  as  absurd 
and  audacious  ?  what  though  his  attic  was  the  antiixules 
of  her  lordly  dwelling?  she  had  seemed  to  think  his  lovo 
might  span  the  gulf  lietween  them,  therefore  no  prompt- 
ings of  self-love  should  deter  him  from  upholding  the 
claim  ahu  had  allowed 


A    TRUE   LOVEK.  115 

It  would  be  unmanly  to  leave  her  in  a  dilemma,  or 
without  a  clear  understanding  of  her  position.  Jn  tlio 
circumstances,  the  best  course  was  to  write  to  Miss 
Tiii'ton;  easy  to  decide,  difficult  1o  execute. 

He  sat  a  long  time,  pen  in  hand,  before  he  wrote  a 
a  syllable;  then  the  three  lines  accomplished  were  de- 
stroyed. He  took  a  turn  up  and  down  his  little  salon. 
He  had  a  rather  heroic  air  in  his  red-lined  robe  de  cham- 
bre :  its  colour  threw  out,  in  good  relief,  his  black  hair 
and  beard,  and  by  its  flowing  outlines  gave  breadth  to 
his  thin  figure.  He  takes  down  his  pipe,  not  for  inspi- 
ration, but  for  soothing  —  tobacco  is  a  calmer.  Pie  lays 
it  aside  lest  the  odour  should  attach  itself  to  his  writing- 
paper  ;  he  is  again  at  the  table,  on  which  is  spread  the 
thick  cloth,  good,  kind  Lady  Ponsonby's  present.  As 
he  leans  his  elbow  on  it,  he  cannot  but  think  of  that  ex- 
cellent friend  of  the  cheerful  aspect.  His  heart  softens 
unusually  towards  the  whole  Ponsonby  family,  'i'he 
thought  intrudes  unwillingly  and  involuntarily,  that  had 
he  been  about  to  address  his  letter  to  Alicia,  he  should 
not  have  felt  that  there  was  the  same  discrepancy  of 
Fituation  between  her  and  him. 

The  fingers  of  his  left  hand  twisting  his  beard,  he  sat 
on,  musing  on  the  contrariness  of  human  beings,  who 
will  not  pluck  the  good  fruit  within  reach,  but  must 
climb  the  tree  for  that  which,  when  attained,  is  found 
to  be  inferior  in  flavour. 

The  letter  advanced  not  a  line  for  this  new  chain  of 
thought ;  nine  o'clock,  and  he  ought  to  be  out  by  ten. 
It  must  be  written,  however,  and  in  Englisli,  in  case  she 
might  wish  to  consult  Miss  Crunipton  ;  a  smile  relaxed 
his  face  at  the  thought  of  the  chaperone's  astonished 
horror,  if  his  letter  were  presented  to  lier  for  perusal.  He 
could  not  even  help  himself  by  writing,  "My  dear  Miss 
Tufton ;"  that  was  too  little  between  them  now,  and  he 
did  not  choose  to  hazard  any  more  endearing  term,  until 
he  had  more  solid  ground  for  believing  such  would  be 
acceptable.  Again,  it  was  difficult  to  press  upon  her 
anew  what  he  had  urged  yesterday,  that  if  she  repented 
of  her  goodness  to  him,  to  consider  herself  free ;  such 
persistence  might  assume  the  semblance  of  backward- 
ness on  his  part.     Undoubtedly  an  interview  would  have 


116  WHO    BREAKS — PAYS. 

less  chance  of  giving  her  this  faulty  im])ression  ;  but  as 
he  was  not  playing  a  double  game  with  his  conscience, 
he  shrank  from  tlie  witchery  of  her  presence  ;  certain  it 
would  again  mi.'^lead  him.  and  make  him  utter  words 
foreign  to  his  iutentiun,  and  that  he  should  leave  her  as 
full  of  doubts  and  misgivings  (on  her  account,  mark)  as 
he  was  now.  It  is  not  in  the  moments  of  our  sharpest 
anguish,  or  most  ardent  desires,  that  we  are  ever  most 
eloquent.  There  must  be  self-possession  to  write  or 
speak  with  grace  and  eti'ect ;  and  in  this  moment  not  an 
atom  of  Giuliani's  moral  or  physical  being  but  was  en- 
gaged in  combat  with  another  force. 

Thus  it  came  to  pass,  that  after  plunging  for  the 
twentieth  time  Iws  pen  into  his  inkstand,  he  resolutely 
set  to  his  difficult  task.  The  passionate  thoroughness 
of  his  love  hid  itself  at  first  under  a  little  pedantry,  and 
never  rose  above  the  earnestness  of  a  friend.  Before 
eleven,  the  letter  was  in  Lill's  hand. 


ALL    OR    XOTHINQ.  Ill 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

All  or  Nothing. 

Only  yesterday !  thonj^ht  Lill,  as  she  awoke  next 
iiioniin":.  All  iiulelinitc  period  seemed  to  her  to  separate 
herself  of  to-day  from  herself  of  the  day  before.  Her 
first  sensations  were  the  continuation  of  the  last  of  the 
eveninp:  before.  She  had  done  with  her  world  of  hitlierto  ; 
that  morning  she  entered  a  new  one.  A  desire,  till  this 
moment  unknown — a  desire  for  guidance — was  one  of  the 
effects  of  this  change  of  atmosphere.  Lill  had  never 
before  experienced  any  doubt  that  she  was  able  to  pilot 
herself  and  others,  through  the  most  difTicult  straits; 
she  had  always  carried  her  point  willi  a  high  hand,  even 
with  Sir  Mark.  She  would  have  been  mightily  indignant 
Lad  she  been  told  that  she  now  had  an  inclination  to  ask 
a^d  from  the  persons  she  most  desjiised,  or  that  she  sor- 
rowed over  the  want  of  those  family  ties  she  had  hillierfo 
only  considered  in  the  light  of  tormenting  limits  to  inde- 
pendence ;  they  might  be  occasionally  obstacles  in  the 
way  of  a  free  course;  but  with  a  growing  experience, 
she  discerned  that  they  also  might  be  a  welcome  shelter. 
Never  till  now  had  she  discovered  her  real  loneliness. 
She  had  talked  of  friends  and  friendships,  had  written 
long  letters,  and  received  longer  ones,  with  the  inevitable 
garnishings  of  "dearest"  and  "darlings,"  profusely 
strewed  from  beginning  to  end.  Yet  in  this  crisis,  she 
had,  and  she  well  knew  it,  of  honest  and  sincere  souls  to 
depend  on,  none  but  her  old  cousin,  to  whom  she  had  the 
sort  of  afVection  we  give  a  favourite  spaniel,  because  we 
are  flattered  by  his  slavish  lidclity. 

Just  at  the  moment  Lill  was  feeling  that  she  was  a 
very  friendless  creature,  and  moreover  sore  to  think  she 
was  so.  (Jiuliani's  letter  was  handed  to  her.  The  sight 
of  his  handwriting  stirrcnl  her  as  though  it  had  been  a 
supernatural  reproof  to  her  thoughts.  She  had  a  friend 
— a  very  different  one  from  poorCrummie — a  friend,  and 
not  the  mere  shadow  of  one,  Lill  was  not  much  versed 
in  delinitions,  but  she  had  an  intuition  of  the  nullity  and 
unchangeableness  of  (jiuliani's  sentiments.     With  more 


118  WHO    BREAKS — PAYS. 

complaisant  feelings  than  the  writer  had  dared  to  expect, 
she  brolve  the  seal  and  read  the  contents. 

How  unlike  the  man  and  his  emotions  were  the  first 
lines  I 

"  May  your  dreams  last  night  have  proceeded  from  the 
ivory  door,  and  pleasant  visions  have  soothed  any  unrest 
an  importunate  friend  may  have  caused  you  ! 

"  I  told  you  yesterday  in  my  hard  pride,  that  I  would 
have  no  love  born  of  pity.  Sweet  one,  to-day  I  will  take 
your  pity  without  your  love  !  and  yet  my  love  in  the 
uight  past  has  grown  as  immeasurably  as  did  Jonah's 
gourd.  It  burst  from  the  silent  calyx  of  my  heart ;  it 
bloomed  at  once  into  a  hundred-leaved  flower.  I  am 
troubled  with  anxiety  for  you.  Your  eyes  with  their 
pitying  look  haunt  me ;  it  is  not  clear  to  me,  that  your 
heart  is  drawn  towards  mine.  A  great  fear  has  come 
upon  me :  for  I  love  you  for  yourself,  not  for  my  own 
pleasure.  Yuu  are  so  young,  so  inex})erienccd,  so 
friendless.  To  others  you  may  be  one  of  the  fortunate 
ones  of  this  world ;  to  me  you  have  seemed,  ever  since 
yon  were  my  pupil,  as  a  pretty,  uncarcd-fur  blossom.  My 
soul  yearned  over  you  with  a  father's,  a  brother's  tender 
ness.  It  is  in  one  or  other  of  these  characters  1  now 
address  you,  pleading,  not  against  myself,  but  as  counsel 
for  yon,  in  this  great  crisis  of  your  life. 

'•ilaving  listened  to  a  proposition  of  marriage — listened 
for  the  first  time,  as  I  gathered  from  the  alarm  in  your 
face — it  beconu>s  the  duty  of  the  friendly  counsel,  who 
stands  in  lieu  of  parents  and  brethren,  to  make  you  un- 
derstand what  marriage  means.  It  is  not  an  al)struse 
subject  requiring  a  long  commentary  ;  it  sinqjly  means, 
conseyif,  the  entire  consent  of  two  beings  to  belong  en- 
tirely (for  better  for  worse)  to  each  other.  You  under- 
stand this  coupling  together  may  be  like  that  of 
galley-slaves — the  dead  to  the  living — the  executioner 
to  the  condemned;  or  it  may  be  like  the  heavenly  king- 
dom, wliere  weariness  and  sorrow  are  to  find  their  rest 
and  consolation.  So  far  your  counsel.  1  now  speak  to 
you  in  my  own  name.  Wifehood  is  synonymous  with 
heroism;  slie  who  enters  that  order  engages  herself  to 
li('l|),  to  redress  all  her  liusltand's  injuries  by  her  sweet 
uiinihtraliou.s. 


ALL    OR    NOTHING.  119 

"  Sorrow  and  dc<ith  have  many  varieties  ;  joy  and  birth, 
none.  Joy  comes  from  within,  not  witliout.  Had  I  all 
the  kingdom  of  the  world  to  bestow  on  you,  I  might  yet 
not  render  you  a  hapjiy  woman,  I  might  he  the  poor 
soul  I  am.  and  still  have  the  power  to  make  you,  thank 
God  !  joyful  for  your  life.  Pause,  then,  and  say  to  your- 
self, 'Would  it  pain  me  more  to  lose  tliis  man — never  to 
see  him  more — than  it  would  to  lose  my  i)et  canary,  who 
refuses  liberty  to  sit  and  peck  his  sugar  from  my  lips  ?' 
If  the  man  be  no  more  to  you  than  this — a  tame  creature 
cherished  because  it  worships  you — do  not  let  him  see 
you  to-morrow  evening  at  Lady  Ponson]}y's.  There  is 
no  fear  for  the  result  of  the  wound  he  may  receive.  A 
man  does  not  die  because  he  may  wish  it.  '  All  or  noth- 
ing, is  my  motto.'  "  G.  G. 

The  smart  of  the  wound  that  her  pitying  eyes  had  in- 
flicted was  betrayed  by  these  last  lines  ;  indeed,  anyone 
experienced  in  passion  could  have  traced  in  this  letter 
every  fluctuation  of  Giuliani's  feelings — tenderness,  pas- 
sion, effort  after  self-nuistery,  irony,  doubt,  and  despair. 
Giuliani,  in  truth,  worshiped  Lill.  All  very  well  to  try 
and  persuade  her  and  himself  that  there  had  been  a 
gradation  in  his  sentiments,  when  his  soul  had  been  taken 
captive  at  once  by  the  charm  of  her  person,  her  manners, 
her  talents.  He  loved  her,  as  many  a  man  does  a  woman, 
because  she  charmed  him.  It  was  now  only  that  he  was 
about  1o  have  a  chance  of  seeing  into  the  depths  of  her 
soul,  though,  supposing  she  allowed  him  to  love  her,  the 
chance,  after  all,  would  be  very  small,  that  he  got  beyond 
seeing  himself  in  the  blue  depths  of  her  eyes,  a  sight 
that  makes  a  Narcissus  of  many  a  man. 

Lill,  startled  and  silent,  sat  looking  at  the  outside  of 
the  letter  long  after  she  had  mastered  its  contents  ;  at 
first  they  weighed  so  heavily  on  her,  that  she  turned  un- 
easily from  side  to  side  in  her  chair,  as  one  who,  in 
composition,  struggles  to  bring  a  tliought  clearly  forth 
from  a  misty  conception.  But  instead  of  clear  thiukmg, 
came  remembrances  in  a  serried  troop — remembrances 
assailing  her  with  persuasions  and  warnings  to  take 
flight  from  Paris.  In  most  coming  dillicultics.  there  is 
an  instinctive  foresight  of  them  :  we  resist  the  impres- 


120  WHO    BREAKS — PAYS. 

sion  which  mii^ht,  oftener  than  not,  save  us.  liill  heard 
the  hill  streamlet  that  rippled  so  noisily  athwart  the 
west  wood  at  Wavering,  and  strangely  present  to  her 
were  the  little  lights  trembling  now  in,  now  out,  as  the 
breeze  waved  aside  the  leaves  to  let  the  sun  peep  into 
the  shade ;  she  seemed  to  smell  the  stringent  perfume 
of  the  fir  plantation,  to  see  beyond  it  the  expanse  of 
cornfields,  made  by  the  wind  to  look  like  a  green  sea, 
with  tender  gray  waves,  and  then  the  home  park  with  its 
knolls  and  dells,  roamed  over  by  speckled  cattle,  those 
objects  of  alarm  in  a  hot,  breathless  summer  day.  And 
suddenly  there  came  upon  her  a  great  desire  for  home, 
the  home  of  her  childhood  and  girlhood  ;  had  she  wings, 
she  would  fly  away  thither ;  she  wanted  to  be  among 
familiar  faces — wanted  to  see  the  blutt"  farmers  and  their 
wives  again,  to  hear  the  village  bells,  to  be  scolded 
again  by  old  Bates  the  gardener.  Her  bosom  heaved, 
and  she  sighed  short  quick  sighs. 

"  My  dear !"  exclaimed  Miss  Crumpton,  who,  in  spite 
of  her  crochet,  had  had  her  eye  on  the  letter  and  on 
Lill. 

Lill  raised  her  head,  shook  aside  the  thick  clustering 
hair  that  had  hung  so  close  to  her  cheek,  and  thrusting 
Giuliani's  letter  into  her  apron-pocket,  said, — 

"  Crummie,  I'll  give  you  an  empire  if  you'll  tell  me 
whom  I  have  thought  of,  and  nearly  cried  about." 

"  I  was  never  a  good  guesser  of  riddles,  my  dear ;  but 
though  I  am  rather  dull  at  finding  out  enigmas,  I  am 
not  as  blind  as  a  mole  ;  1  can  see  what  is  before  me." 

"1  can't  remember  just  now  what  creature  it  is  sees 
behind  it ;  but  something  docs, — a  fish  or  a  l)ird.  And 
you  are  neither,  dear  Crummie,"  said  Lill,  rising. 
i*lacing  her  two  hands  on  Crummie's  shoulders,  and 
looking  into  her  eyes,  she  added  :  "  1  was  nearly  putting 
my  finger  in  my  eye  a  little  while  ago,  for  thought  of 
cross  old  ]}ates." 

Miss  Crumpton  shook  her  head. 

"True,  indeed!"  went  on  Lill;  "and  fancy,  1  am 
homesick,  longing  for  Wavering  I'ark,  wearying  for  tlio 
sight  of  the  ugly  church,  and  J()hi\  liarke's  timlter-yard, 
and  the  i'illory  I'oiid,  with  tiie  wiiile  may  dipping  into 
its  brown  waters.     I  want   to  hear  my  native  tongue  in 


ALL    OR    NOTHING.  121 

all  its  nf^liness  ;  every  '  o,'  and  '  i,'  and  '  a,'  changed  into 
souietliino-  not  '  o,'  nor  '  i,'  nor  '  a.'  " 

"To  tell  the  truth,  Lill,"  replied  Miss  Crumpton, 
folding  away  her  work,  as  if  willing  to  act  ou  the 
thought,  "  if  J  am  to  say  what  I  think,  my  belief  is,  we 
should  be  better  there  than  here." 

Lill  went  away  to  her  birds,  and  let  Dick  out  of  his 
cage  ;  who  after  fluttering  round  the  room,  came  and 
perched  on  her  hand,  with  tiny  flights  up  to  her  lips, 
where  he  was  used  to  find  sugar. 

"  Ah  !  self-seeking  Dicky,"  said  Lill,  stroking  the 
little  yellow  head  with  one  finger.  "  You  ask  sugar  for 
your  love.  Now  /  love  you  because  I  love  you,  and 
would  give  you  freedom  if  it  were  good  for  you ;  that's 
what  people  call  love,  is  it  not  Crummie?" 

'•  My  dear,  1  can't  make  you  out." 

"JLiut  you  are  my  chaperone,  and  it's  your  duty  to 
make  me  out,  and  to  explain  to  me  what  1  don't  under 
stand  of  life  and  society.  Now,  what  is  real  love  ?  I 
want  to  know  it  from  sham." 

Miss  Cruin])ton  shook  her  head. 

"  I  can't  tell  you,  my  dear." 

"When  you  want  to  find  out  whether  the  stone  you 
have  is  a  true  or  false  diamond,  you  go  to  a  lapidary," 
said  Lill  ;  "now,  Crummie.  girls  ought  to  have  some  one 
who  can  tell  them  the  right  from  the  wrong  love." 

"  Men  are  so  deceitful  when  they  are  in  love,"  began 
Miss  Crumpton. 

Lill  stamped  her  foot  impatiently. 

"  Don't  go  off"  into  platitudes,  cousin." 

"  I'll  give  you  one  good  piece  of  advice,  my  dear, 
platitude  or  whatever  you  choose  to  call  it,". said  Miss 
Crumpton,  now  on  her  defence.  "  Love  flies  out  of  the 
window  when  poverty  comes  in  at  the  door.  And  it's 
best  for  such  as  you,  my  dear,  to  repent  in  a  coach  and 
four." 


11 


122  WHO  BREAKS— PATS. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Femme  qui  Icoute. 

Lilt,  Tuftox  had  given  ear  to  the  words  in  Mr. 
Giuliani's  letter,  and  she  went  to  Lady  Ponsonby's  the 
next  evening. 

Giuliani  was  standing  behind  a  sofa  in  the  farthest 
part  of  the  room,  opposite  to  the  door,  when  she  entered. 
Their  eyes  met  for  an  instant,  then  glanced  away  from 
each  other.  Lill  seated  herself  between  two  ladies  she 
did  not  know,  all  her  wishes  limited  at  that  moment  to  a 
desire  of  keeping  clear  of  Mr.  Giuliani.  No  sooner  had 
she  warranted  hiiu  by  appearing  where  she  did  to  claim 
her  before  all  the  world,  than  she  wanted  to  avoid  him. 
Absent  he  had  much  more  power  over  her  than  present. 
Absent  she  pictured  hun  as  lonely,  poor,  sorrowful 
Present  his  hnn  countei  Alice,  a  something  of  authority 
in  his  look  and  manner,  occasionally  a  dash  of  humour  in 
what  he  said,  made  her,  she  could  not  tell  why,  half  re- 
sentful, and  inclined  to  be  haughty  to  him.  llis  voice, 
always  peculiarly  pleasant,  and  ]icrhaps  so  because  it 
had  in  it  so  much  of  his  prevailing  moral  (lualitie.';,  sin- 
cerity and  decision  (he  never  mouthed,  nor  gabbled,  nor 
hesitated,  nor  minced  his  words) — even  his  voice,  which 
had  at  first  attracted  her  attention  at  Mrs.  Caledon's 
this  evening  displeased  her. 

He  ought  not  to  be  speaking  so  calmly  and  fluently, 
even  sportively — she  had  not  expected  that,  after  such 
a  letter.  She  might  have  stayed  away,  and  no  fear  but 
that  h(>  had  been  (piiti*  as  much  at  his  ease.  Had  he 
covered  his  head  with  ashes,  and  his  shoulders  with 
sackcloth,  been  silent  or  spoken  in  a  doleut  voice,  Lill 
would  have  found  him  equally  in  ihe  wrong. 

]Ie  had.  ]ioor  fellow,  one  irreparable  fault,  really  an 
nni)ardonable  oni'  for  her — he  liad  not  l)een  able  to  make 
lier  love  him.  lie  was,  however,  most  excusal)le  in  not 
himself  suspecting  it,  when  of  iicr  own  free  will  she  had 
conu?  to  Lady  I'onsonby's  that  evening.  She  liad  yielded, 
indeed,  lialf  to  I  lie  inllumce  he  did  possess  over  her, 
half  to  lier  own  vi\iil  imagination;  and  licr  present  dis- 


FEMME    QUI    ECOUTE.  123 

turbance  proceeded  from  the  alternate  attraction  ant! 
reijulsion  lie  had  I'or  her. 

She  scarcely  kcew  what  she  was  saying  when  he  at 
last  crossed  over  to  where  she  was ;  she  supposed  she 
must  shake  hands  with  him.  The  indillereiice  she  had 
heard  in  his  voice,  she  certainly  could  not  attril)ute  to 
his  eyes ;  nor  did  his  tremulous  pressure  of  her  hand 
express  exactly  superabundance  of  calmness. 

He  sat  down  and  talked  to  her  with  serious  pleasant- 
ness and  as  he  talked  aa  air  of  repose  spread  itself  over 
him.  He  relaxed  from  head  to  foot,  like  one  who,  having 
had  his  heart's  full  desire  granted,  is  at  rest  in  soul  and 
body — an  impression  seldom  given  by  men,  who  when 
conversing  in  society,  have  the  look  rather  of  prisoners 
on  the  watch  to  escape.  Not  a  word  but  that  the  whole 
party  might  hear,  and  yet  Lill  felt  that  he  would  not 
have  spoken  so  to  any  other  than  herself,  (iradually 
the  subtle  influence  of  a  strong  love  subjected  her,  and 
the  feverish  irritation  of  her  humour  was  lulled.  Her 
headv  no  longer  pendent  like  a  droojiiug  flower,  rose  on 
the  flexible,  arched  throat,  the  lovely  face  turned  full  to 
him ;  the  blue  eyes  thanked  him  for  setting  her  at  peace 
witli  herself. 

Mdlle.  ArseniefT  and  Miss  Crumpton  were  the  only 
two  of  Lady  Ponsonljy's  guests  whose  curiosity  was 
aM-akened  by  Mr.  (jinliani's  so  completely  engrossing 
Miss  Tufton's  attention. 

It  was  one  of  the  Italian's  peculiarities,  whatever  he 
might  be  doing,  to  see  all  that  went  on  round  him. 
Alicia  had  often  remarked,  "Mr.  (Jiuliaui  sees  with  the 
back  of  his  head  ;  I  believe  nothing  escapes  him.  With- 
out appearing  to  look,  he  knows  how  every  woman  is 
dressed  in  any  room  he  goes  into."  Miss  Ponsonby 
spoke  feelingly,  being  conscious  of  her  own  failings  in 
that  respect — carelessness  as  to  dress.  Lill's  elegant 
nicety  was  one  of  her  special  attractions  for  Giuliani. 
What  he  did  remark  this  evening  was,  that  Mdlle.  Ar- 
senieff  and  Miss  Crumpton  were  watching  him  and  Miss 
Tufton;  Miss  Crumpton  in  fidgety  silence,  and  Mdlle. 
Arsenieff  more  demonstratively  by  hovering  incessantly 
in  their  neighborhood.  The  Russian  discovered  once 
that  they  were  talking  of  horses,  and  she  came  near 


124  WHO    BREAKS — PATS. 

enough  to  hoar  ;  Giuliani  was  saying  he  did  not  like  to 
see  a  woman  on  horseback,  the  sight  alarmed  without 
pleasing  him.  The  next  topic  of  their  tite-d-iSte  she  dis- 
covered to  be  birds  and  flowers. 

Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  Mdlle.  ArseniefiF's  active 
surveillance,  Giuliani  did  find  a  moment  to  saj'  unheard 
to  Lill,  "  Miss  Crumpton  ought  to  be  in  our  confidence." 
These  words  made  Lill  as  hot  as  fire  for  a  momentary 
interval ;  she  hud  another  of  those  prompt,  vehement 
inward  agitations  which  might  pass  for  divine  inspira- 
tion. She  had  only  courage  to  say  to  herself,  "  Too 
late."  To  Giuliani  the  deep  crimson  flush  that  covered 
her  face  and  throat  was  a  most  ecstatic  vision.  His 
sharp  sight  was  of  no  use  to  him  iiere.  "  He  hurries 
me  too  much,"  was  the  meaning  of  that  blush.  Women's 
emotions  are  always  complex,  not  seldom  inexplicable 
to  themselves.  lie  gazed  with  grateful  confidingness  at 
her;  suspense,  conjecture,  doui)t,  had  ended  from  the 
moment  she  had  entered  Lady  Ponsonby's  salon. 

As  Lill's  blush  faded,  and  her  silence  continued, 
Giuliani  took  another  favourable  opportunity  to  ask, — 

"  May  I  pay  you  a  visit  to-morrow  evening  ?  Sunday 
is  my  only  free  day." 

"  Why  not  call  after  church  ?"  inquired  Lill. 

"First,  l»ecause  I  ought  to  go  a  little  way  from  Paris 
to  visit  the  friend  wlio  is  canvassing  for  a  professorsliip 
for  me,  and  then  in  the  forenoon  you  may  have  visitors  ; 
and  am  I  verj  exacting,  in  wishing  to  sec  you  for  a  half 
hour  alone  ?" 

"But  what  will  Miss  Crumpton  think?" 

"  Why  shoidd  she  be  left  to  conjecture?  Tell  her  the 
truth." 

"That  is  not  porliaps  so  easy,"  was  the  rather  pettish 
rejoiner. 

Giuliani  was  that  evening  ovorflowing  with  the  milk 
of  human  kindness,  happy  to  have  to  exercise  patience 
with  her. 

"Suppose  you  allow  nie  to  tell  Iier — it  is  my  right 
now  to  save  you  any  troubli'." 

Lill  shook  her  head. 

"No,  she  will  bear  it  bellcr  from  me." 

That  was  (he  eml  of  their  conversation  'or  liiat  even. 


KEMME    QUI    ^COCTE.  125 

ing.  Lady  Ponsonby  called  away  CJiuliani  purposely,  to 
preveat  oiricious  remarks,  aud  Alicia  cainc  to  Lill's  side. 
Frobahly  Alicia  liad  never  before  tried  so  hard  to  make 
herself  ag-reeable  1o  any  one  as  she  now  did  to  Lill.  A3 
(jriuliaai's  betrothed,  Lill  was  to  her  the  interesting'  per- 
son, which  as  MissTufton.  a  mere  young-  lady  of  fashion, 
she  could  not  be.  Alicia's  stern  heart  softened  with 
something  of  maternal  tenderness  to  the  delicate  nurtured 
girl,  who  had  agreed  to  cast  in  lior  lot  with  that  of  the 
rugged  patriot.  Alicia  herself,  with  her  high  ideas  of 
Giuliani's  worth,  of  his  talents,  and  of  the  grandeur  of 
the  cause  lie  supported,  yet  could  not  resist  a  little  sur- 
prise that  the  brilliant  fairy  had  consented  to  turn  sim- 
ple mortal  for  him.  Alicia  could  not  fancy  Lill  in  the 
homely  dress  suited  to  the  fortunes  of  Giuliani's  wife — 
(iould  not  imagine  her  in  the  tiny  attic  salon.  Little 
fanciful  as  she  was  by  nature,  legends  of  the  fatal  des- 
tiny of  all  mortals  who  had  sylphs  or  demigoddesses  for 
wives  came  into  her  head. 

But  Lill's  sentiments  for  Miss  Ponsonby  had  under- 
gone no  sympathetic  change.  She  had  discerned  at  the 
first  the  backwardness  and  the  shade  of  mistrust  scarcely 
recognized  by  Alicia's  self;  besides.  Miss  Ponsonby's 
and  Giuliani's  respect  and  friendship  for  each  other,  far 
from  creating  any  corresponding  friendliness  in  Lill,  was 
likely,  in  her  present  state  of  fluctuation,  to  produce 
more  decided  hostility. 

Alicia,  all  unused  as  she  was  to  talk  of  theatres  or 
other  diversions,  reproduced  as  she  thought,  with  toler- 
able fluency,  what  she  had  gathered  from  Valentine  and 
others;  Lill  listened  and  answered  with  a  smile — an  in- 
definable smile,  Giuliani  considered  it  so,  for,  though 
some  way  oQ",  his  eye  seldom  wandered  from  the  lovely 
young  creature.  In  an  obligatory  pause,  for  Alicia 
had  come  to  au  end  of  her  fashionable  news,  Lill 
said, — 

"  Now  ril  try  and  talk  politics,  or  of  Italy,  and  the 
patriots,  and  independence — try  to  raise  my  intellect  to 
your  level,  in  return  for  your  kindness  in  coming  down 
to  mine." 

Alicia  was  petrified. 

"  I  do  care  for  some  other  subjects  than  dress  and 

11* 


126  WHO    RRKAKS — PATS. 

anmsement,"  went  oa  liiU ;  "Ihope  some  day  you  will  do 
me  more  justice." 

Alicia  could  not,  of  course,  sjuess  what  a  lelief  it  was 
to  Lill  to  let  lier  petulance  have  its  way.  It  was  the 
sting  of  an  insect  struggling  for  liberty. 

On  taking  leave  of  Lady  Ponsonby's,  Lill  found  Giu- 
liani again  by  her  side.  Valentine  was  there  also,  but 
he  had  to  retreat,  so  pointedly  did  Giuliani  offer  his  arm 
to  the  young  lady.  As  they  went  down  the  stairs, 
Giuliani  took  her  hand  iu  his. 

"  I  almost  wish  I  could  die  to-night."  he  said.  She 
turned  with  a  gesture  of  surprise  towards  him.  "  It  is 
my  happiest  moment,"  he  added  and  raising  her  hand, 
he  pressed  his  lips  on  the  delicate  wrist. 

Her  pulse  was  as  calm  as  that  of  a  sleeping  child. 
Valentine  and  Miss  Crumpton  had  both  a  glimpse  of 
Giuliani's  actions;  Valentine  believed  his  eyes.  Miss 
Crumpton  doubted  hers. 

When  Valentine  returned  to  his  mother's  sa/oj?,  Mdlle. 
Arsenieff  was  saying,  in  her  clear  voice,  to  Alicia,  with 
little  care  who  overheard  her, — 

"  Pray,  is  there  not  something  between  Mr.  Giuliani 
and  la  belle  Avglaise?" 

Alicia  answered  :  "  I  am  not  in  their  confidence." 

"They  two  are  fire  and  water,"  said  Mdme.  de  Roche- 
pont  de  llivifere,  "  and  the  something  that  will  be  between 
them  will  be  thunder  and  lightning.  However,  thank 
goodness,  they  have  not  chosen  me  as  confidant,  so  I 
slian't  be  the  worse  for  it.     Good-night." 

Miss  Crumpton  sat  silent  during  the  drive  home. 
What  her  mightiest  efforts  of  speech  would  not  have  ac- 
coinplislied,  her  silence  won.  Before  she  went  to  bed 
Lill  confessed  to  Miss  Crumpton  that  she  was  engaged 
to  Mr.  Giuliani. 

The  old  lady,  though  she  had  more  than  suspected  the 
fact,  when  her  dread  was  confirmed  refused  to  credit  her 
ears  any  more  than  she  had  done  her  eyes  a  few  minutes 
before. 

"  He's  a  downright  villain!"  burst  forth  the  alarmed 
chaperone;  "and  so  I'll  tell  him  :  stealing  into  jjeoplc's 
liouscs,  and  making  his  own  of  them.  Oh!  1  always  did 
hate  foreigners." 


FEMME    QUI    ECOUTE.  12? 

"You  are  talkiiii;-  infinite  nonsense,  Crnmmie,"  Ijill 
repliod  ;  "  if  you  wish  to  call  any  one  bad  names,  or  to 
accuse  any  one,  i)ray  let  it  be  me.  Truth,  dear  old  lady, 
helps  a  cause  mif^htily.  I  begged  Mr.  Giuliani  to  come 
to  this  house,  and  he  did  not  try  to  make  me  like  him." 

"I  don't  believe  you  do  like  him — you  can't — it's  against 
nature  !"  exclaimed  Miss  Crumpton,  with  a  gesture  of 
despair,  which  set  her  cap  all  awry. 

"  Don't  storm  about  it,  it  won't  do  any  good,"  said 
Lill,  with  a  quietness  unusual  in  her ;  "  I  don't  wish  to 
put  Ruth  in  our  confidence.  There,  read  that,  and  you'll 
fiee  that  1  have  not  wanted  for  good  advice." 

Lill  while  speaking  had  taken  Giuliani's  letter  out  of 
her  desk,  and  given  it  to  Miss  Crumpton. 

During  the  time  Miss  Crumpton  was  reading  it,  Lill 
sat  very  still,  her  eyes  on  the  old  lady. 

"  He  knew  the  way  to  take  to  make  you  say  '  yes,  " 
was  the  indignant  spinster's  commentary;  "tell  you  not 
to  do  a  thing,  and  you  will  be  sure  to  do  it." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Lill. 

"  Didn't  you  always  take  the  part  of  the  servants  when 
they  came  to  you  with  a  pitiful  tale  ?" 

"  Oh.  Cnminiie,  what  a  confusion  you  make!  Do  listen 
to  me  patiently.  Mr.  (jiuliani  really  loves  me — loves 
me  for  myself.  No  matter  what  might  happen  to  me,  if 
I  were  to  have  the  small  pox,  or  become  a  cripple,  un- 
sightly to  every  one  else  in  the  world,  he  would  still 
cherish  me  as  his  love.  It's  so  very  rare,  you  know,  to 
find  that  sort  of  attachment ;  I  have  seen  enough  of  life 
to  know  so  much.  Mr.  Giuliani's  feeling  for  me  is  not  a 
question  of  money  and  settlements — " 

This  word  was  a  new  cue,  and  set  Miss  Crumpton  off. 

"How  are  you  to  live?  I  am  sure  Sir  Mark  will  turn 
you  away  without  a  penny ;  and  I  have  so  little  in  my 
power."  The  old  woman  was  already  drifting  over  to  her 
adversary's  side.  "  But,  Lill,  my  dear,  he  loves  you,  and 
no  thanks  to  him  ;  but  you — do  you  love  him  ?" 

Miss  Crumpton's  voice  and  look  were  full  of  the  dis- 
gust that  the  idea  of  such  a  possibility  gave  her. 

"  I  never  saw  any  one  else  I  ever  thought  of  as  a 
husband,"  said  Lill. 

"  But  you  might,  if  you  took  time  to  look  about  you." 


128  WHO    BREAKS — PAYS. 

"  Hush,  Crummie,  you  must  never  say  sucli  words  to 
me  again ;  it  would  be  too  dishonourable.  For  my  saks 
— for  your  poor  Espiegle's  sake,  do  try  and  like  Mr. 
Giuliani.  If  he  were  English,  1  am  sure  you  wouldn't 
be  able  to  spy  out  a  fault  in  him  ;  and  he  will  be  as  a  son 
to  you,  Crummie.  I  shall  not  have  to  beg  him  to  care 
for  you.  Whoever  loves  me,  and  is  kind  to  me,  he  will 
love ;  that  is  more  than  you  are  inclined  to  do." 

"  You  persuade  me  out  of  my  senses,  Ijill.  my  dear ; 
but  you'll  never  get  me  to  say  it's  anything  but  a  most 
unnatural  business;  and  then  Sir  Mark — " 

"  We  have  settled  about  him  already,"  said  Lill,  witii 
a  smile,  half  sad,  and  a  weary  look  :  "  he  is  to  hurry  m'y 
marriage  by  turning  me  out  of  doors." 


PASSIONATE    HEART,  129 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

Passionate  Heart. 

One  of  the  Caliphs  of  (jrauada,  designated  "  The 
Happy,"  was  able  to  reckon  up,  ueverthcless,  how  many 
had  been  the  happy  days  of  his  life ;  twenty-three  was 
it?   not  more,  certainly. 

Giuliani  was  not  so  far  behind  the  Moorish  monarch; 
he  marked  down  at  this  period  sixteen  days  of  happiness, 
beginning  with  his  Sunday  evening's  visit  to  Miss  Tufton. 

Lill  accepted  from  him  a  ring,  allowed  him  to  place  it 
himself  on  her  finger,  allowed  him  to  wonder  at  and  go 
into  ecstasies  as  to  the  slendcrness  of  the  finger,  to  study 
the  hand  and  doat  on  its  every  blue  vein  and  on  the  tiny 
dimples  that  marked  the  whereabouts  of  the  knuckles. 

The  unbending  of  the  grave  man,  his  childlike  frank- 
ness, were  really  touching.  For  a  time  Lill  sat  and 
watched  him  with  the  satisfaction  of  one  who  sees  the 
admirable  working  of  a  new  mechanism.  This  new  Mr. 
Giuliani  was  of  her  creating.  Miss  Crumpton's  frigidity 
lasted  throughout  tea ;  after  that  she  lost  her  chilling 
power  by  nodding  most  charitably  in  her  easy  chair. 
Giuliani  lowered  his  voice  in  reverence  to  so  convenient 
a  slumber.  Miss  Crumptou  only  slept  on  Sunday 
evenings  when  crochet  and  knitting  were  forbidden 
pleasures.  It  was  then  he  had  the  opportunity  of  oS'er- 
ing  his  ring.  Lill  rather  liked  to  hear  him  talk  fondly 
and  foolishly.  He  spoke  to  her  for  the  first  time  of  his 
own  family,  told  her  stories  of  his  schooldays  and  made 
her  laugh,  that  laugh  which  seemed  to  him  like  silver 
bells;  he  spoke  to  her  of  his  father,  of  his  bravery,  his 
high  hopes,  and  their  fading;  and  won  from  her  some- 
thing dearer  than  her  laugh,  precious  tears  of  sympathy. 
At  last  he  fell  into  sudden  silence.  Good  heavens!  what 
a  rush  of  growing  tenderness  it  was.  that  filling  his 
heart,  stopped  his  speech:  words  came  dropping  slowlj' 
from  his  lips,  like  drops  out  of  an  overtiiled  uarrow- 
neckcd  vase,  passionate  words  that  scorched  Lill's  cheeks, 
but  froze  her  heart,  her  satisfaction  was  gone,  but  not 
her  courage.     She  had  made  many  a  pious  prayer  that 


130  WHO    BREAKS PATS. 

Sunday  morning-  in  his  behalf.  Having  promised  to  be 
his  wife,  she  had  prayed  God  to  make  her  loving  as  well 
as  dutiful  to  him ;  but  she  listened  so  gently,  her  long 
eyelashes  bashfully  sweeping  her  hot  cheek,  that  he 
thought  it  better  so,  than  if  her  blue  eyes  had  darkened 
in  answer  to  his. 

The  next  morning  Lill  received  a  bouquet  of  exotics, 
left  with  Giuliani's  card.  Lill  was  not  pleased.  "  I  wish 
he  would  not  act  so  openly  the  lover,"  was  the  thought 
with  which  she  took  the  flowers.  Growing  in  her  lieart 
was  a  seed  of  resentment  at  the  e([uality  on  which  he 
placed  himself  with  her;  she  did  her  best  to  keep  the 
feeling  under,  always  asserting  loudly  that  his  social 
rights  were  not  altered  by  the  accident  of  his  being  an 
Italian  master.  Nevertheless  ever  since  she  had  en- 
tangled herself  in  an  engagement  with  him,  whenever  he 
assumed  the  air  of  a  lover,  she  was  inwardly  revolted, 
as  if  he  were  taking  an  undue  liberty  with  her. 

Unluckily  for  all  parties  Giuliani  maintained  towards 
Lady  Ponsonby  and  Alicia  an  uiiexi)ccted  reserve  ;  the 
mure  unexpected  as  he  must  have  known  that  Alicia 
had  been  almost  a  witness  of  his  declaration  of  Lill. 

Perhaps  Giuliani  felt  his  position  to  be  one  of  those 
which  a  sincere  h-iend  would  be  bound  to  liandle  boldly, 
and  ho  miglit  have  a  latent  dread  that  his  hajipiuess  was 
built  on  sand,  not  rock,  and  would  fall  with  a  great  fall 
at  the  first  shock.  The  strongest  of  us  are  but  cowardly 
compromisers  when  passion  has  the  upper  hand. 

Had  tliere  been  anything  to  do.  any  overt  struggle  to 
make,  Lill  would  have  shown  both  strength  and  con- 
stancy. But  she  was  not  proof  against  mere  endurance. 
She  could  not  rise  superior  even  to  Miss  Crunii)ton's 
repugnance  t(»  the  Italian;  she  was  for  ever  trying  to 
get  the  old  lady  to  confess  herself  wrong,  it  was  like 
hitting  a  down  cushion,  which  yields  to  the  blow,  and 
straightway  recovers  its  form;  Miss  Crumi)ton's  non 
possiimus  was  taking  effect  on  Lill.  (Jiuliani  was  soon 
made  to  feel  the  consccinences  of  this  enemy  at  court. 

'I'lie  first  cloud  that  darkened  the  heaven  of  his  love 
was  (lie  evident  fear  with  which  Lill  looked  forward  to 
Sir  Mark's  arrival.  Uo  what  he  wonid  to  be  indulgent 
on  this  score,  to  sec  in  it  nothing  but  girlish  tiiL.idity, 


PASSIONATE    HEART.  131 

his  self-love,  rendered  extremely  ticklish  by  his  circum 
staucep,  was  wounded.  He  had  expected  something 
very  differeat,  recollecting  as  he  did  very  distinctly 
Lill  s  defiance  of  her  grandfather  in  the  beginning  of 
their  accjuaintance.  The  first  expressions  of  alarm  he 
had  met  with  soothing  encouragement,  with  those 
assurances  which  when  a  woman  loves  a  man,  make  her 
feel  ready  to  dare  the  whole  world  for  him.  But  at  last 
Lill's  terrors  lest  Sir  Mark  should  arrive  and  find  him 
there,  more  openly  expressed  at  each  succeeding  visit, 
provoked  from  hhn  the  utterance  of  some  of  the  dis- 
pleasure that  had  accumulated  in  his  mind. 

"This  alarm  is  overmuch,"  he  said.  "There  is  some- 
thing grating  to  my  feelings  in  it.  It  is  painful  when 
duties  clash,  and  you  have  a  duty  to  perform  to  Sir 
Mark  as  well  as  to  me ;  but  I  supposed  you  had  already 
considered  where  the  one  ended,  and  the  other  began ; 
above  all,  let  there  be  no  concealments." 

"You  don't  know  Sir  ISfark's  violence,"  said  Lill,  pale 
with  a  quiver  on  her  lips.  Giuliani's  new  tone  was  in- 
expressibly painful ;  it  revealed  something  like  contempt, 
she  thought.  A  tear  in  those  beloved  eyes,  brought 
thither  by  his  severity,  filled  him  with  remorse. 

"  I  am  wrong,"  he  said  ;  "  forgive  me ;  you  shall 
choose  your  own  time  and  opportunity  for  speaking  to 
Sir  iSIark.  I  will  leave  you  now,  and  not  return  again 
until  you  recall  me." 

"  I  don't  wish  that,"  said  Lill  ;  "  all  1  wish  is,  that  if 
Sir  Mark  should  arrive  and  find  you  here,  that  you 
would  not  explain  anything  to  him." 

Giuliani  hesitated,  and  his  brow  lowered. 

"I  do  think,"  said  Lill,  "you  might  be  a  little  more 
indulgent  to  me.  I  can't  help  dreading  the  first  out- 
break of  Sir  Mark's  rage ;  I  must  bear  that ;  you  pro- 
mised you  would  never  willingly  make  me  shed  a  tear.  I 
thought  when  a  man  really  loved  a  woman,  he  was  not 
ready  to  suspect  her  of  faults." 

"You  thought,"  returned  Giuliani,  "that  love  wa8 
necessarily  blind.  A  great  fallacy  :  any  one  who  avers 
that  any  human  being  is  faultless,  uses  flattery  to  gain 
some  selfish  end.  Is  that  love  not  greatest  which  loves 
in  spite  of  blemishes  V 


132  WHO   BREAKS — PATS. 

Lill  shook  her  head. 

"  I  begin  to  believe  you  don't  know  what  love  is." 

Giuliani  here  turned  frightfully  pale  :  theefifect  of  hei 
words  was  so  beyond  her  intention,  that  Lill  was  like 
one  thunderstruck. 

"Child,  child!"  he  ejaculated,  "you  cannot  then 
nnderstand  me  :"  he  went  towards  the  door. 

"  No  ;  you  must  not  go  away  angry  with  me." 

"  But  I  am  not  angry." 

"Yes,  you  are;  come,  forgive  me  for  whatever  crime 
I  may  have  committed,"  said  Lill,  playfully,  yet  but 
half  pleased.  "You  won't?  well,  then,  I  won't  have 
your  ring."  He  turned  from  her.  "  Take  it  or  I'll  crush 
it  under  my  heel,"  she  threw  the  ring  on  the  floor. 

'•  Even  as  you  please,"  he  replied,  without  stooping  to 
lift  up  the  ring.  They  stood  eyeing  one  another  like 
two  combatants  about  to  test  each  other's  strength. 

It  was  Lill  who  picked  up  the  ring. 

"  Put  it  on  my  finger,"  she  said,  imperiously. 

"  Not  so,"  he  answered  ;  "  you  must  resume  it  of  your 
own  will  and  deed." 

She  continued  to  hold  the  small  circlet  on  the  tip  of 
her  finger.  What  a  strange  battle  was  fighting  in  her 
heart  ;  not  one  between  love  and  i)ride,  nor  between 
l)rid('  and  pity.  She  valued  him  for  his  very  resistance, 
and  she  could  not  resign  her  jjower  over  him. 

She  held  up  her  finger  and  the  ring  slip])od  back  to 
its  place.  She  held  out  her  hand  to  Giuliani,  he  took  it, 
kissed  it  fervently,  saying, — 

"  Lill !  have  you  then  had  no  idea  that  I  give  up 
something  for  you  ?"  she  opened  her  eyes  very  wide. 
"  If  1  liave  never  before  told  y<ni,"  he  went  on,  "  it  was 
because  I  feared  to  a])]iear  a  boaster.  1  must  tell  you 
now  tliat  you  may  understand  how  much  you  are  to  me. 
My  ]n-ide  I  have  laid,  not  only  beneath  your  feet,  but  I 
lower  it  in  the  dust  Ix'fore  your  graiidfatlier,  and  submit 
to  the  contempt  of  tlie  rieli  for  the  poor.  My  inde- 
pendence, for  I  stoop  to  seek  a  ])lace  under  a  govern- 
ment not  my  own,  the  same  which  has  played  false  with 
my  country.  For  you,  I  renounce  my  obscurity,  and 
lay  myself  open  to  all  tli(^  rancour  and  calumny,  wliicli, 
like  sleuth  hounds,  pursue  tlie  Italian,  who,  having  beeu 


PASSIONATE   HEART.  133 

once  marked  as  a  republican,  accepts  anything  fron.  the 
ministers  of  a  monarch.  A  miiu  makes  no  little  sacri 
fice,  my  beloved  one.  when  he  gives  tlic  slightest  hold 
for  the  accusation  of  deserting  his  principles." 

Lill  stood  by  his  side  silent  and  subdued,  her  own  sen- 
sations and  conduct  at  that  moment  seemed  to  her  so 
mean  and  trilling. 

The  tone  of  Giuliani's  feeling  was  too  high  strung  to 
be  brought  down  easily  to  the  diapason  usual  to  a  draw- 
ing-room. This  conversation  hail  taken  place  in  the 
little  room  where  he  used  to  give  Lill  her  lessons,  and 
where  indeed  Lill  generally  received  his  present  visits. 
When  Miss  Crnmpton,  from  the  door  of  the  adjoining 
room,  called  them  into  tea,  he  bade  Lill  goodbye ;  he 
stood  with  her  hand  still  in  his,  surveying  every  object 
in  the  well-known  room.  Birds,  books,  flowers,  Lill's 
work-basket,  all  the  hundred  trifles  that  remain  in  the 
memory,  as  making  up  the  individuality  of  a  friend.  At 
last  his  look  returned  to  Lill,  there  it  lingered,  noting 
hair,  eyes,  lovely  hues,  and  the  slight  bending  figure. 

"  My  beautiful  one  !" 

"  Don't  go,"  whispered  Lill. 

"  I  must  be  alone,  God  be  with  you  :"  he  left  her.  Lill 
stopped  a  moment,  then  ran  after  him. 

"  Come  back,"  she  cried,  but  he  was  out  of  hearing. 

The  next  morning,  before  Lill  had  left  her  room,  a 
small  packet  was  brought  to  her,  instead  of  the  usual 
boucjuet  from  Giuliani.  Several  scraps  of  written  paper, 
evidently  just  cut  out  of  a  note  book,  were  inside  an 
inner  envelope,  on  which  was  written  in  Italian,  "  I  send 
you  some  of  my  diary  :  judge  for  yourself  of  what  I 
have  felt  for  you  and  for  how  long.  ]\ly  heart  reproves 
me  for  enjoying  your  dear  society,  at  a  cost  to  you  of 
anxiety.  Till  you  bid  mo,  I  shall  not  come  to  see  you ; 
Sir  Murk  must  soon  be  hero  ;  and  then  — "  Lill  took  up 
the  bits  of  paper  one  after  the  other.  Some  were  of 
two  or  three  lines,  some  of  half  a  page,  lie  wrote  of 
her  under  the  name  of  Perla.  Ah  !  he  had  longed  to 
kiss  the  ground  on  which  she  trod  :  all  Ihe  time  he  had 
played  the  austere  master,  repressing  her  friendliness, 
she  had  been  dearer  to  him  than  his  eyes  ;  her  image  had 
filled  his  soul ;  and  yet  he  had  struggled,  and  but  for  ao 

12 


134  WHO    BREAKS PAYS. 

accident  she  would  have  known  nothing  of  the  matttT, 
He  had  even  doated  on  her  petuUince :  it  was,  indeed, 
oot  commonplace  prose,  it  was  more  like  a  beautiful 
hymn,  thought  Lill,  with  exultation ;  the  passionate 
words  wont  to  her  head,  there  was  a  beating  in  her  ears. 
"  I  suppose  I  do  love  him,"  she  said ;  "  I  must,  he  loves 
me  so  much,"  and  she  put  the  envelope  coutaiuing  the 
scraps  into  her  desk. 

After  breakfast,  Lill,  still  under  the  influence  of  the 
spell,  wrote  him  a  few  frank,  atfectionatc  lines,  in  perfect 
good  faith  at  the  moment,  begged  him  to  forgive  hei 
cowardice;  it  was  not  alone  for  herself  she  trembled; 
he  was  to  trust  to  her  to  make  his  banisliment  as  short 
as  she  safely  could ;  she  took  out  of  his  last  nosegay  a 
sprig  of  "  Forget-me-not,"  and  enclosed  it;  the  signa- 
ture spoke  volumes  to  Giuliani  —  Lill  signed  "Perla." 
It  was  almost  as  if  she  had  assumed  his  own  name. 


GRANDMAMMA.  135 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

Grandmamma. 

Sir  Mark  had  arrived.  He  had  seen  his  friend  Mrs 
fownsend  installed  in  the  apartments  secured  for  hei 
by  Lill,  and  expressed  himself  satisfied  with  the  choice 

This  approbation  sounded  strange  enough  to  Lill 
accustomed  in  former  days  to  accept  Sir  Mark's  silence 
as  the  surest  proof  of  his  satisfaction,  and  she  looked  at 
him  to  see  if  he  meant  what  he  said ;  then  she  observed 
he  had  a  sort  of  paleness  as  if  ashes  had  been  rubbed 
over  his  usually  florid  complexion. 

"  Have  you  had  the  gout,  Sir  Mark  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Gout !  what  makes  you  say  that  ?  It's  not  the  gout; 
you  and  Miss  Crumpton  were  always  dinning  the  word 
gout  into  my  ears,  until  you  made  me  believe  I  had  it. 
I  have  had  Dr.  Whyteson's  opinion  ;  it  is  neuralgia ;  you 
women  are  always  so  knowing  with  your  gout  and  rheu- 
matism." 

"  The  name  is  not  of  much  consequence,"  Lill  began. 

"That's  all  you  know  about  it,"  interrupted  Sir  Mark. 
*'  Call  things  by  their  right  names ;  gout  is  gout,  and 
neuralgia  is  neuralgia,  and  not  gout." 

"  Very  well ;  have  you  had  neuralgia  ?"  asked  Lill. 

"I  have  not  had  anything,  MissTufton;  my  health 
has  been  excellent,  is  excellent,  and  will  be  excellent,  if 
you  do  not  worry  me." 

Lill  here  walked  towards  the  door,  with  the  intention 
of  leaving  the  cross  old  man  to  himself. 

"  Where  are  you  going  now  ?"  he  said,  pettishly. 

"  To  my  own  room." 

"  Wait  a  minute  ;  I  have  something  to  say  to  you." 

Lill  reseated  herself,  with  a  treacherous  change  of 
colour;  her  conscience  made  her  a  coward.  In  the  mo 
nient  that  elapsed  before  Sir  Mark  spoke  again,  the 
wildest,  most  extravagant  conjectures  whirled  through 
her  brain  ;  no  doubt  Sir  Mark  had  heard  in  some  way  or 
other  of  her  Italian  lessons ;  he  susi)ected  her,  and  was 
about  to  attack  hei  on  the  subject  of  (Giuliani;  slie  turned 
hot  and  cold,  then  braced  herself  up  to  meet  the  attack 


136  WHO    BREAKS PAYS. 

"  You  must  call  on  Mrs.  Townsend  this  afternoon," 
said  the  baronet.  "  I  told  her  you  would  be  with  her 
about  six  o'clock  ;  she  said  she  wouldn't  bo  ready  to  re- 
ceive you  before.  Take  the  carriage,  and  see  if  she 
wants  to  drive  out." 

All  Lill's  muscles  relaxed ;  she  burst  into  a  hysterical 
fit  of  laughter. 

"  What  are  you  laughing  at  ?"  asked  her  grandfather. 
Miss  Crumpton  also  looked  inquiringly  at  her. 

"Nothing;  only  that  in  general  owls,  and  not  fine 
ladies,  begin  to  fly  about  at  twilight." 

Sir  Mark's  eyes  darted  lire  at  the  speaker. 

"  Just  pay  attention  to  what  I  say  to  you,  Miss  Tuf- 
ton.  You  had  bettor  not  show  any  of  your  impertinence 
to  Mrs.  Townsend,  or  by  G — ■  you'll  live  to  repent  it." 

"In  what  way?"  she  said,  with  a  peculiar  intonation 
Sir  Mark  could  not  understand ;  it  sounded  most  like  a 
mere  interrogation  from  curiosity. 

"  I'll  turn  you  out  of  the  house." 

"  I  don't  know  that  that  would  be  the  worst  thing  that 
could  happen  to  me." 

"  By  G —  you  women  are  enough  to  drive  a  man  mad !" 
exclaimed  Sir  Mark,  aud  thing  out  of  the  salon. 

Lill  turned  to  Miss  Crumpton,  the  silent  spectator  for 
years  of  the  turbulence  of  the  house  of  Tufton,  not  only 
silent,  but  looking  on  with  a  face  as  round  and  placid  as 
a  full  moon  in  July;  still  and  unmoved  —  but  for  her 
crochet-work  —  as  one  of  the  large-lipped,  serene-faced 
Ethiopian  statues  in  the  British  Museum.  Turning  to 
her,  I. ill  said, — 

"iSliiiU  1  tell  him  now  about  Mr,  Giuliani,  or  wait  to 
see  if  he  is  really  going  to  be  married  ?  a  touch  of  kin- 
dred feeling,  you  know  may  make  him  kind." 

"  I  knew  a  gentleman  who  married  at  seventy-five," 
said  Crummie  "and  he  lived  to  be  eighty-six,  and  was 
very  lia])])y  ;  you  had  iictter  wait  and  see  the  lady  first," 

'I'his  advice  was  like  a  respite  to  the  eondeuuied,  and 
was  acted  upon. 

At  six  o'clock  Lill  drove  to  the  Rue  de  Cirque,  e.\- 
pecting  to  see  a  dashing,  dark-fved  woman,  who  wouhi 
ovciwhelm  her  with  cajolery  and  coaxing  -  exactly  as 
the  present  Buronii''  de  'I'indurt  had  done  before  she 


GRANDMAMMA.  137 

married  the  younj?  French  baron  instead  of  the  old 
English  baronet.  Miss  Tufton  was  admitted  by  a  French 
femmc  de  chambre,  who  said  that  Madame  would  bo 
with  Madlle.  immediately. 

Lill  was  astonished  to  see  the  metamorphosis  already 
efll'ctcd  in  the  salon ;  every  table,  sofa  and  chair  seemed 
to  have  been  moved;  the  curtains  were  differently  draped, 
and  flowers  were  everywhere  that  a  vase  or  glass  could 
stand,  while  every  seat  was  encumbered  by  cushions. 
The  inner  doors  being  open,  Lill  could  not  help  having 
a  glimpse  of  what  was  going  on  behind  them,  and  a 
pretty  scene  of  disorder  it  was.  Great  trunks,  with 
their  lids  thrown  back,  and  the  floor  strewed  with  their 
lieterogeneous  contents. 

Lill  was  left  half  an  hour  by  herself;  at  the  end  of  the 
first  quarter  of  an  hour  the  same  French  maid,  Madlle. 
Athenais,  brought  in  a  splendid  campliene  lamp,  lighted, 
and  a  book  "  pour  Madlle.  Tufton,  Madame  etait  deso- 
16e,  etc." 

The  book  was  one  of  Balzac's,  and  the  very  first  page 
fascinated  Lill's  attention.  It  began,  "  Qui  est  Madame 
Fimiani?"  Was  this  meant  as  epigrammic  on  the  part 
of  Mrs.  Townsend  ?  Lill  had  reached  the  last  of  the 
conjectures  about  Madame  Fhuiani,  when  a  rustling 
made  her  look  up.  A  little  fragile-looking  being  —  her 
fair  hair  simply  wound  about  her  head,  in  a  black  silk 
dress,  made  like  a  peignoir,  was  coming  towards  her. 
Mrs.  Townsend  took  Lill's  hand,  and  raising  herself  on 
tip-toe,  kissed  the  young  lady. 

"  You  are  very  good  to  keep  the  promise  Sir  Mark 
made  for  you.  Miss  Tufton,"  said  she,  staring  at  her  visi- 
tor  unceremoniously,  and  not  with  an  exactly  satisfied 
look. 

"  I  hope  you  approve  of  your  apartments  ?"  said  Lill. 

"I  like  the  position,  and  the  rooms  are  well-sizod. 
When  I  have  changed  some  of  the  furniture  I  shall  like 
them  well  enough.  I  hate  Utrecht  velvet  for  chairs, 
they  catch  hold  of  your  dross  so  ;  and  yellow  is  my  abomi 
nation — my  hair  doesn't  allow  of  it,  nor  yours  either,' 
she  added,  "  though  it's  some  shades  darker  than  mine." 

Again  she  stared  at  Lill. 

"Sir  Mark  thought  you  might  like  to  drive  out,"  said 

12* 


L38  WHO  BREAKS — PATS. 

Miss  Tufton,   remembering  the  injunctions  he  had  re 
ceived. 

"  Dear  old  man  !  did  he  ?  very  kind  of  him  ;  but  pray 
tell  him  I  am  not  crazy ;  the  gas  is  lit  in  the  streets,  1 
believe.     Do  you  like  French  plays  ?  do  you  go  often  ?'' 

"  Very  seldom,"  was  Lill's  reply. 

"  Are  you  one  of  the  serious  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Townsend. 

"  Not  at  all,"  and  Lill  laughed ;  "  but  since  Sir  Mark 
Las  been  away  we  have  had  no  gentleman  to  go  with  us." 

"  We  !"  repeated  Mrs.  Townsend,  iuquii-ingly. 

"  Miss  Crumpton  lives  with  us." 

"  Oh,  the  companion." 

"  No,  my  mother's  cousin  ;  she  stays  entirely  out  of 
kindness  to  me.  Can  I  be  of  any  service  to  you,  M  rs, 
Townsend?"  added  Lill,  rather  nettled  at  being  so  cross- 
examined. 

"  No,  1  don't  think  so — for  this  evening  at  least.  I 
mean  to  have  a  cup  of  tea  and  go  to  bed.  Tell  Sir  Mark 
I  am  invisible  till  to-morrow  afternoon," 

"  Then  1  will  leave  you,"  said  Lill.  ''We  dine  a.\ 
seven." 

"  Always  ?"  asked  the  other  lady. 

"Yes." 

"  When  you  have  no  evening  engagements  ?" 

"  It  is  our  regular  hour." 

"  You  must  change  it.  I  can't  bear  dining  before  nine, 
it  makes  such  a  horrible  long  evening.  Tell  Sir  Mark 
you  are  very  diflereut  from  what  I  expected;  much  better 
luoking." 

"  More  than  I  can  say  for  you,"  thought  Lill ;  "  poor 
little  half-tlcad  looking  creature,  with  not  even  pleasant 
manners." 

"  Well !"  said  Sir  Mark,  when  he  met  his  granddaugh- 
ter iu  the  drawing-room  before  dinner,  "  how  did  you 
and  Mrs.  Townsend  get  on. 

"We  oxaniini'd  one  another  very  minutely,  and  Mrs 
Townsend  desired  me  to  toll  yuu  she  was  not  crazy, 
tlier(>f(ire  did  not  take  a  muriiing  drive  by  gaslight." 

Sir  Mark  laughed  as  if  delighted. 

"  Well  ?  anything  more  ?" 

"  And  that  I  was  (piite  difTcrent  from  what  she  ox 
pectcd,  and  much  better  looking." 


ORANDMAJfMA.  139 

"  Not  a  bit  of  feminine  jealousy  about  her,'  yon  won't 
hear  Jier  pulling  other  women  to  pieces ;  and  Miss  Lill, 
clever  as  you  think  yourself,  you'll  find  your  match  there 
for  mother  wit.  Lord,  what  a  wonderful  creature  she 
would  have  been  had  she  had  an  education  like  yours !" 

Lill  was  not  only  in  most  perfect  astonishment  at  Sir 
Mark's  way  of  speaking,  showing  as  it  did  some  of  the 
usual  marks  of  a  real  preference,  but  she  was  moved  by 
it.  She  had  half  a  mind  to  throw  herself  on  his  mercy; 
he  was  become  mure  hunuin  ;  who  could  tell  but  that  he 
might  be  glad  to  get  rid  of  her  ? 

They  were  yet  at  dinner  when  a  ring  at  the  bell  of  the 
great  entrance  door  announced  some  visitor. 

"  Probably  Mr.  Edward,"  observed  Miss  Crumpton. 

"  Why  the  deuce  couldn't  he  have  come  sooner  ?"  said 
Sir  Mark  gruffly. 

"  It  is  not  a  he  at  all,  come  to  disturb  your  digestion," 
said  a  winning  voice. 

Mrs.  Townsend  was  standing  laughing  by  his  side,  in 
the  most  coquettish  and  becoming  of  bonnets,  a  sortie 
de  hal  over  her  shoulders. 

Lill  was  amazed  at  the  transformation  wrought  in  the 
lady's  appearance  since  six  o'clock.  Pretty  she  was 
not,  rather  something  more,  very  piquant,  her  large 
sunken  eyes  launching  forth  flashes  of  light. 

With  a  careless  glance  at  Lill  and  Miss  Crumpton, 
she  said, 

"  Don't  let  me  disturb  any  one  ;  1  am  so  glad  you  are 
at  dessert.  I  shall  sit  by  you.  Sir  Mark  ;  and  you  must 
give  me  quantities  of  drag6es." 

"  You  know  Whyteson  said  your  way  of  living  on 
sweet  things  was  what  hurt  your  health." 

"That,"  snapping  the  smallest  fingers  woman  ever 
had,  "  for  Whyteson.  I  do  not  care  to  live  a  year  or  two 
longer  if  I  am  never  to  do  as  T  like ;  so  give  me  my 
sugar  plums." 

"  Why  have  you  not  a  'nougat,'  Lill?"  began  Sir  Mark 

"  Oh,  don't  scold  me.  Sir  Mark,  scold  the  chef.'" 

"I  won't  have  any  scolding  here,"  said  Mrs.  Town- 
send.  "  I  have  come  to  carry  you  off"  to  the  Palais  Royal 
Theatre;  I  have  got  a  box,  and  a  carriage  is  at  the 
door." 


140  "  WHO  BREAKS — PATS. 

"  Why,  how  have  you  nianasred  ?"  Sir  Mark  asked. 

"  Force  de  volonl4.  sir.  1  felt  dreadfully  stupid  aftef 
Miss  Tufton  went  away,  and  I  sent  Athenais  to  find  out 
if  there  was  a  valet  de  place  to  be  had  about  the  house, 
and  that  brought  down  Madame  la  prnpn'^/aire  from 
the  troisiini".  Sir  Mark,  be  on  your  guard,  she  is  an 
uncommon  pretty  Parisian  ;  she  and  1  fraternized  or 
sorrowized  at  once  ;  she  managed  the  whole  business. 
1  don't  know  the  least  what  the  play  is,  but  niadama 
told  me  she  knew  that  some  of  the  Princes  were  to  ba 
there." 

Lill,  who  had  been  growing  more  impatient  at  each  of 
Mrs.  Townsend's  words,  felt  for  an  instant  as  if  the  last 
speech  had  been  personally  aimed  at  her.  It  was  almost 
a  reproduction  of  what  she  had  once  said  to  Giuliani, 
and  the  odiousness  of  such  trifling  was  now  made  ap- 
parent to  her.  While  Mrs.  Townsend  was  eating  her 
sugar  plums,  dipping  sweet  biscuits  into  her  wine  and 
chattering  to  Sir  Mark,  her  eyes  were  busily  scanning 
Lill. 

"  I  see  you  don't  wish  to  go.  Miss  Tufton,"  she  said  at 
last. 

"  Lill !  not  like  to  go  to  the  theatre  !"  exclaimed  Sir 
Mark ;  "  why  she  is  forever  teasing  me  about  bo.xes  ;  by 
the  by,  Miss  Tufton,  have  you  screwed  any  more  out  of 
that  hero  of  Mrs.  Ualedon's ;"  and  chuckling  the  while, 
he  went  on  to  tell  the  story  as  he  understood  it,  of  Lill's 
having  made  a  stranger  she  met  at  Colonel  Caledon's, 
give  her  a  bo.x  at  the  Italians'. 

"Yon  are  mistaken  in  one  point,"  said  Lill  ;  "I  paid 
for  Miss  Crumpton's  ticket  and  mine." 

Sir  Mark  looked  furiously  at  her. 

"You  did,  did  you  ?  Where  did  you  get  tlie  money?" 

•'You  had  ijetter  not  ask  me  before  strangers,"  she 
Paid. 

"Never  mind  me,"  said  Mrs.  'I\nvnsend,  laughing. 

"  Well,  then,"  continued  Lill,  "I  have  no  idea  of  cheat- 
ing any  one,  and  as  I  had  no  money  1  sold  some  of  my 
ornaments." 

•'(^iiite  right,"  said  Mrs.  Townsend,  staring  Sir  Mark 
in  the  face.  "There  is  no  reason  for  your  being  unlady- 
like because  Sir  Mark  is  such  a  screw ;"  then  she  added 


GRANDMAMMA.  141 

in  a  low  voice  to  the  astounded  baronet,  "  What  a 
tempting  prospect  this  story  opcMis  to  me  !" 

Sir  Mark  made  no  reply,  but  the  look  he  threw  at  his 
granddaughter  was  awi'ul.  Once  more  Mrs.  Townscno 
whispered  to  him,  "  If  you  fly  into  a  rage  with  Lill,  it's 
all  over  between  you  and  me ;"  then  aloud,  she  said,  "  I 
Bee  you  would  really  rather  stay  at  home,  Miss  Tut'ton  ; 
don't  be  afraid,  Sir  Mark  shall  not  nnike  you  do  anything 
for  me  against  your  inclinations.  1  shall  beg  Miss 
Orumpton  to  be  our  chaperoue,  for  I  am  not  going  alone 
with  your  grandfather." 

It  was  so  arranged.  When  they  were  gone,  Lill  burst 
into  a  fit  of  tears.  She  remembered  Giuliani,  his  ten- 
derness came  back  on  her  as  the  thought  of  green 
pastures  and  clear  streams  does  on  the  parched  traveller 
ill  the  desert;  she  must  be  happy  with  anyone  like  him  ; 
she  would  get  out  of  this  wretched  thraldom  to  Sir  Mark 
and  his  set.  Let  him  do  his  worst,  she  would  be  safe 
with  Giuliani.  Time  was,  that  Lill  would  have  laughed 
at  the  late  scene  instead  of  crying;  the  evil  spirit  had 
come  out  of  her,  but  what  if  seven  worse  should  take  up 
their  abode  in  her  ?  She  was  yet  weeping,  when  Edward 
Tufton,  fresh  from  England,  came  rushing  in.  She  had 
never  been  so  happy  to  see  his  well-known  face  ;  even  his 
loud  unmusical  voice  was  welcome  ;  she  felt,  as  he  almost 
shook  her  hand  ofl',  as  if  she  had  found  a  sui)port,  one 
who  would  help  and  like  her  without  analyzing  whether 
she  were  right  or  wrong. 

"  So  they  are  all  out  but  you,  Lill ;  what  a  lark  !  Well 
what  do  you  think  of  grandmamma  to  be  ?" 

"  I  pity  her,"  said  Lill. 

"  Pity  me  rather  and  yourself;  but  while  you  are 
mistress  here,  order  me  something  to  eat,  I  am  starving." 

Lill  rang  the  bell. 

"  What  will  you  have  ?" 

"  Oysters  to  begin  with,  then  any  cold  meat  that  the 
cook  can  spare  me." 

Presently  the  two  cousins  were  seated  at  the  dining- 
table,  an  immense  dish  of  oysters  before  Edward. 

"  There,  you  eat  those,"  he  began,  giving  her  a  plateful. 

"No,  I  can't." 

"  Yes,  you  must,  you  look  horridly  down  in  the  mouth, 


142  WHO  BREAKS — PAYS. 

I  can  tell  you.  You  have  got  a  suspicior  of  a  hollow 
in  your  left  cheek  ;  what's  the  matter  ?" 

"  Nothing's  the  matter,  only  I  want  to  km  w  something 
about  Mrs.  Towuseud." 

"  A  queer  fish,  ain't  she  ?  Such  a  spirit  in  that  little 
body  of  hers ;  she  cows  Sir  Mark  famously,  don't  she  ? 
I'll  stake  a  hundred  to  one  that  in  a  year  she'll  bring  him 
to  be  only  the  husband  of  Lady  Tufton." 

"  But  is  it  all  settled  then  ?  and  who  is  she  ?" 

"  All  right  as  to  respectability  and  that  sort  of  thing, 
for  that's  what  you  are  driving  at,  I  know ;  as  to  your 
first  question,  you  must  ask  her.  I  say,  Lill,  don't  you 
go  for  to  be  taking  a  dislike  to  her  because  of  her  odd 
ways.  She's  not  an  ill-natured  woman,  and  she  is  open- 
handed  as  the  day ;  and  she  can  be,  when  she  likes,  the 
best  fun  in  the  world." 

"  The  idea  of  a  grandmamma  the  best  fun  in  the 
world  !"  repeated  Lill. 

"  You  should  see  the  state  my  mother  is  in.  she  wants 
me  to  go  into  the  Cluirch  and  secure  the  family  living  at 
all  events ;  slic  looks  on  uiy  chance  of  the  baronetcy  as 
gone,  and  declares  this  marriage  will  be  her  deathblow. 
Everyday  she  writes  me  some  new  plan;  her  last  is  that 
you  and  1  should  unite  to  prevent  its  ever  taking  place. 
If  wishes  could  kill,  alas  !  for  Sir  Mark." 

''A  la  grace  de  Ditu,"  said  Lill;  "as  for  me  I  don't 
grudge  Sir  Mark  his  happiness  nor  his  money,  but  now 
good  night :  he  was  in  a  rage  with  me  as  usual  before  he 
went  out,  and  I  don't  want  to  meet  him  till  he  has  slept 
it  off." 

"  Then,  perhaps  1  had  better  toddle  to  bed  also,"  said 
Mr.  Tuftou. 


DRIFTING    AWAY.  143 

CHAPTER   XXIII. 

Drifting  Awa,j. 

On  the  breakfast  table  next  morning  lay  a  tiny  note 
lor  Lill,  written  in  pencil ;  it  ran  thus  : — 

"  What  is  the  first  duty  of  woman  on  arriving  in 
Paris  ?  Guess,  and  come  in  the  carriage  at  half-past  one, 
and  tell  me."  "  Honoka  T." 

Lill  had  lately  had  such  an  uncomfortable  time  of  it 
with  herself,  that,  truth  to  say,  she  was  rather  glad  to 
have  some  other  subject  forced  upon  her.  So,  on  the 
whole,  she  welcomed  Mrs.  Townsend's  note,  and  was 
punctual  to  the  hour  mentioned.  As  a  matter  of  course 
she  had  to  wait  half  an  hour,  and  therefore  had  the  op- 
portunity of  finishing  Madame  Fimiani.  The  hero,  as 
every  one  knows,  lives  up  in  a  garret,  and  gives  lessons 
in  mathematics,  which  does  not  make  him  the  less  of  a 
fine  gentleman,  or  the  less  beloved  by  a  very  fine  lady. 
The  story  interested  Lill,  as  stories  do  which  trench  on 
the  domains  of  our  own  private  history. 

The  two  ladies  drove  first  to  De  Lisle's.  Lill  sat  there 
for  three  quarters  of  an  hour,  patiently  enough,  amused 
with  the  variety  of  materials  exhibited  ;  but  at  last  Mrs. 
Townsend's  caprice  bewildered  and  fatigued  her.  That 
was  nothing,  however,  to  the  impatience  that  ensued 
when,  the  dresses  being  chosen,  the  cpiantities  required 
were  to  be  discussed.  Mrs.  Townscnd  disputed  every 
point,  accused  the  shopman  of  wishing  to  make  her  take 
too  much,  and  ended  by  ordering  more  than  he  had  said 
was  necessary. 

"  I  declare  it's  nearly  dark,"  she  said,  as  she  was 
walking  to  the  carriage. 

"  We  have  been  four  hours  here,"  answered  Lill. 

"  Ah  !  well,  if  it  had  not  been  for  your  solemn  face,  I 
should  have  been  longer ;  it  will  be  your  fault  if  I  have 
taken  what  T  don't  like." 

Sir  Mark's  fine  horses  had  been  dawdling  and  standing 
in  an  east  wind  all  this  time  ;  the  coachman  looked  down 
upon  the  ladies,  with  a  face  as  rough  as  the  wind  itself-, 
Lill  observed  this  to  Mrs.  Townseud. 


144  WHO    BREAKS — PAYS. 

"  'Wliat  else  is  he  a  coacUmau  for  ?"  she  said,  which, 
however,  did  not  preveut  her  seudiug  him  a  lavga  pour- 
boire  when  she  got  home. 

In  the  meantime  they  drove  to  Jeoffroy  in  the  Rue 
Richelieu,  where  another  hour  was  spent  in  choosing 
coitfnresand  bonnets  ;  then  elsewhere  for  artificial  flowers, 
elsewhere  again  for  gloves,  for  shoes.  At  half-past  eight 
Lill  put  down  Mrs.  Townseud  at  her  own  door,  who,  as 
she  alighted,  exclaimed, — 

••  I  shall  not  dine  with  you  to-day,  but  come  and  see 
me  early  to-morrow." 

Mrs.  Townsend  had  engaged  herself  to  dine  with  the 
Tuftons,  and  had  made  them  alter  their  dinner-hour. 

The  next  day  Lill  walked  with  Edward  Tufton  to  the 
Rue  de  Cirque.  They  were  arm  in  arm,  and  really  made 
an  interesting  couple.  Many  of  the  passers-by  turned 
to  look  at  them,  and  all  had  more  or  less  of  a  smile  on 
their  faces,  the  pleasant  sensation  with  which  one  greets 
spring-time. 

"  Well  matched  indeed  !"  was  the  thought  of  one  who 
had  been  some  time  (himself  unseen)  coutemi)lating 
them.  As  the  cousins  were  about  to  turn  into  the  Rue 
de  Cirque,  this  moralizer  passed  them  hastily,  and  Mith- 
out  giving  any  sign  of  recognition :  Lill  flushed  crimson  : 
"he  must  have  been  behind  them,  he  might  think  all 
sorts  of  things  ;"  she  made  a  dash  forward  to  stop  him, 
she  lialf  called  out  his  name,  and  then  stupi)ed. 

"  What's  the  matter '!"  asked  Edward,  putting  his 
head  forward  to  see  her  face. 

Of  course  the  answer  was,  "Nothing." 

"  Yes,  it  is  something  ;  that  fellow  who  passed  us  is 
that  Grimgrifliuoff  you  were  in  such  a  passion  with  me 
about." 

"  I'erhaps  it  was,"  said  Lill ;  "  I  suppose  he  did  uot 
recognize  us." 

Mr.  J'ldward  looked  rather  sulky. 

Timt  Saturday  evening  Lill  could  not  go  to  the  Pon- 
sonby'H.  t)ut  she  wrote  an  apology  and  explanation. 

Within  a  week  of  Mrs.  Townsend's  advent  in  I'aris, 
she  had  a  dashing,  low,  open  carriage,  with  a  pair  of 
spirited  jionies,  in  which  she  drove  herself  and  the 
beautiful  Miss  Tuftou  to  the  liuis  de  liuulugue,  uud  Id 


DRIFTING    AWAV.  14£ 

doing  which  both  ladies  met  with  their  due  share  of  ad- 
miration; the  oue  for  hov  beauty,  tlie  other  for  her 
gracel'ul,  daring-  coachmiiuship.  At  the  end  of  that 
weeli  the  two  were  mounted  on  equally  first-rate  horses, 
with  plenty  of  cavaliers  besides  Sir  Mark  and  Edward 
TuftoM  ;  cavaliers  agreeable,  gallant,  and  talkative,  to 
whom  Sir  Mark  and  his  heir  presumptive  only  were  an 
exception,  their  rule  being  to  be  sulky  and  silent.  The 
ladies  were  also  en  4uiile-)ice  in  the  evenings.  After  the  ' 
ride,  or  the  drive,  came  tlie  dinner.  There  was  always 
either  company  to  dinner  or  in  the  evening  ;  or  they 
went  to  a  theatre,  or  a  concert,  or  a  ball,  or  a  soir6e. 

Mrs.  Townsend  could  not  endure  a  family  party,  and 
wherever  she  went,  Lill  must  go,  or  else  Sir  Mark 
should  not  accompany  her.  Lill  yielded  to  this  exi- 
gency with  evident  reluctance  at  first,  then  more  and 
more  readily. 

But  wherever  she  might  be,  or  whatever  she  might  be 
doing,  abroad  or  at  home,  alone  or  in  a  crowd,  the  re- 
collection of  her  promise  to  Giuliani,  of  his  right  to 
claim  its  performance,  lay  heavy  and  cold  on  her  con- 
science. Why  did  she  linger  so  ?  was  a  question  never 
candidly  answered. 

She  was  already  once  more  living  in  the  zone  of 
fashion,  breathing  easily  in  that  malignant  air  which 
leaves  no  one  the  master  of  either  his  thoughts  or 
actions. 

All  that  can  be  said  in  Lill's  defence  is  that,  through- 
out this  period,  she  never  laid  herself  out  to  attract ;  her 
manners,  indeed,  were  so  retiring,  that  more  than  one 
of  those  who  dangled  in  her  train  supposed  her  to  be 
the  betrothed  of  the  ill-tempered  looking  youth  who  was 
always  at  her  side. 

After  that  morning  when  Giuliani  had  passed  her  in 
the  Cliamps  Elysees  without  any  sign  of  recognition, 
Lill  had  had  many  glimpses  of  him  wlien  she  was  on 
horseback,  or  in  the  dashing  pony  phaeton ;  and  each 
glimpse  had  sent  the  blood  violently  to  her  heart,  leav- 
ing her  lace  colourless  for  an  instant,  only  to  steep  it  in 
crimson  the  following  moment.  Giuliani  never  seemed 
to  see  her,  but  she  was  certain,  as  of  her  life,  that  he 
always  did. 

Oue  day  in  particular  she  had  had  a  good  inspiration. 

13 


146  WHO  BREAKS — PATS. 

She  had  been  riding  with  Mrs.  Townsend  and  a  gay 
party  in  the  Champs  Elysees.  and  she  had  caught  sight 
of  him  about  to  enter  the  courtyard  of  a  building  on 
which  was  a  huge  board  with  staring  gold  letters,  an- 
nouncing it  as  a  "  Pensionnat  pour  Jeu)ics  clemoiselles.^' 
She  saw  perfectly  well  that  he  looked  pale  and  thin. 
She  had  fine  gentlemen  on  either  side  of  her,  Avell 
mounted,  and  as  sleek  and  shiny  as  their  steeds  :  they 
were  all  trotting,  and  the  cloud  of  dust  they  raised 
reached  Giuliani.  lie  stopped  and  shook  it  from  his 
coat.  This  accidental  circumstance  smote  her  heart.  In 
the  smart  of  the  moment,  she  curbed  her  horse  so 
tightly,  that  he  reared :  the  gentlemen  on  either  side 
made  a  snatch  at  her  bridle,  but  she  struck  the  spirited 
animal  with  her  whip  between  the  ears,  so  that  he  set 
olF  at  a  wild  gallop.  No,  he  should  not  see  any  man 
paying  her  attention.  And  Giuliani  thought  the  gallop 
a  bravado  !  Did  not  Lill  well  know  his  aversion  to  a 
woman's  riding  ? 

On  her  return  homo,  still  under  the  impression  she  had 
received,  Lill  wrote  to  Giuliani  a  very  few  lines,  but 
strong  with  real  feeling;  she  concluded  by  saying  that 
nothing  should  })revent  her  going  to  Lady  Ponsoid)y'3 
next  Saturday  evening.  She  gave  her  note  to  Ruth, 
bidding  her  take  it  to  the  post  herself.  Ruth  had  often 
seen  notes  addressed  by  her  young  lady  to  Mr.  Giuliani, 
and  had  not  given  a  thought  to  the  matter.  She  was 
accustomed  also  to  Lill's  forcible  manner  about  trifles, 
yet  this  day  the  lady's-maid  imagined,  for  tlie  first  time, 
that  there  was  something  between  Miss  Tufton  and  Mr. 
Giuliani,  and  hers  was  the  memory  of  a  servant  for  those 
sorts  of  things. 

Giuliani  received  the  note  with  more  of  surjnnse  than 
pleasure;  he  read  if,  and  laid  it  down  with  a  quietly 
muttered  "  Paayj-e  enfant."  His  heart  was  as  heavy 
as  a  stone. 

That  morning  he  had  heard  that  he  was  sure  of  being 
named  to  the  professorship  of  history  at  the  college  of^ 
the  provincial  town  of  IJ — .  "An  evil  fate  follows  me," 
he  had  thought;  "the  nomination  is  of  no  use  for  the 
end  I  solicited  it,  and  will  oidy  serve  to  separate  me 
from  the  best  of  friends,  und  a  life  that  suits  me.  1  have 
deserved  this." 


FETTERS    OF    INTIMACY.  147 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

Fetters  of  Intimacy 

"  No,  no,  no, — I  can't  spare  you  this  evening,"  said 
Mrs.  Towusend  to  Lill,  who  was  pleading  a  pre-engage- 
ment.  "  I  don't  know  another  English  woman  1  can 
ask  to  meet  these  French  people.  You  will  do  me 
credit ;  besides,  I  can't  bear  to  see  any  one  pursing  up 
their  mouths  in  fear  of  what  may  be  coming  next,  or 
else  dropping  out  from  the  end  of  their  lips,  in  answer 
to  a  joke  upon  some  of  our  national  absurdities,  'That's 
exactly  what  we  pride  ourselves  upon  in  England.'  " 

The  mimicry  of  some  of  their  collet  moniS  acquaint- 
ances was  so  capital  that  Lill  burst  out  laughing. 

"  You  are  a  charming  creature,"  said  Mrs.  Townsend ; 
"  I  knew  you  could  not  resist  me." 

"  I  must  this  once — only  this  once,  dear  Honora." 

"  Where  do  you  want  to  go  ?"  asked  the  dear  Honora, 
her  sunken  eyes  fixed  on  Lill  with  curiosity.  "  I  am 
yourchaperone  now  ;  Sir  JNLirk  gave  you  into  my  charge, 
and  I  have  a  right  to  know,  and  I  will  know." 

Intimacies  generally  end  in  being  lyrannies.  Lill  was 
by  this  time  aware  that  what  Mrs.  Townsend  said  in  p'ay 
she  often  meant  in  earnest. 

"  Tliere's  no  mj-stery  in  the  case,"  she  said?  "  I  wish 
to  go  to  Lady  Ponsonby's  Saturday  reception." 

"  You  never  mentioned  Lady  Ponsonby  to  me  before. 
Where  does  she  live?  who  is  she  ?  why  have  you  not 
introduced  me  to  her?" 

"  I  should  be  very  glad  to  do  so ;  she  is  a  charming 
person;  oh,  so  good,  so  unlike  any  one  lever  saw,"  said 
Lill,  warming  with  her  subject.  "  I  used  to  go  there 
almost  every  Saturday  evening  before  you  came,  and 
she  has  a  right  to  be  offended  at  my  neglect  of  her 
lately." 

"  Is  she  old?  has  she  sons?"  pursued  Mrs.  Townsend. 

"One  son  at  home,  the  other  is  in  India;  but  you 
needn't  imagine  any  love  affair  between  Valentine  and 
me ;  he  is  just  such  another  as  Edward  Tufton." 

"Ah  1  by  the  by,  Lill,  why  don't  you  and  that  Neddy 


14?  WHO   BREAKS — PATS. 

make  up  a  match,  and  keep  the  title  and  wealth  in  the 
family  ?" 

'•  Heavens,  no !"  exclaimed  Lill,  again  laughing ; 
"  that  would  be  preposterous ;  his  wife  to  be  should  still 
be  in  the  nursery.  Besides,  we  expect  you  to  be  Lady 
Tul'ton." 

"Hm!  hm !  hm  !  come,  confess,  and  I'll  let  you  ofif 
this  evening.  Notre  copui-  a  d6jcL  parl4,  eh  !  some  mer- 
curial Parisian  whom  we  think  to  meet  at  this  Lady 
Ponsonby's  ?" 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Lill,  firmly. 

"You  swear  it  is  not  so  —  very  well ;  then  you  must 
give  up  Lady  P.  and  all  her  amiable  batadan." 

Lill  was  afraid  to  insist,  so  she  sent  oU'at  once  a  note 
to  Lady  Ponsonby. 

"  Please  not  to  think  ill  of  me  —  but,  iudecd,  I  do  not 
believe  you  ever  judge  one  unkindly  —  I  would  give 
much  to  be  with  you  this  evening,  but  I  am  prevented. 

"Your  most  afl'ectiouate, 

"  Lill." 

"  Show  it  to  Giuliani,"  said  Alicia,  who  was  suspicious 
that  all  was  not  right  between  the  Italian  and  Miss  Tuf- 
ton. 

Lady  Ponsonby  accordingly  placed  it  in  Giuliani's 
hand  as  soon  as  ho  came  in.  It  was  the  first  time  she 
had  ventured  on  tlio  sliglitest  act  that  could  give  a  hint 
of  her  being  aware  of  his  feelings  for  Lill. 

He  read  the  few  lines  in  silence,  the  moment  was  not 
come  for  any  outpourings  of  the  pain  he  felt.  Alicia 
picked  uj)  the  note  afterwards,  so  crushed,  that  tht 
writing  was  nearly  illegible. 


SOIREE   TOWNSEND.  149 

CHAPTER    XXV. 

Soiree  Townsend. 

TnKRK  was  a  pleasant  subdued  lia^ht  in  Mrs.  Town- 
Baud's  drawing-room,  when  liill  entered  it  with  Sir  Mark 
and  Edward. 

A  hidy  and  two  gentlemen  had  preceded  them.  The 
lady  was  presented  as  Madame  de  Vernenil,  one  gentle- 
man as  Mons.  Ix,  the  other  as  Mons.  Vertengris.  '^The 
fartie  carrie  opened  their  circle  to  admit  the  new  arri- 
vals. Madame  de  Vernenil  retreated  to  a  sofa,  in  one 
corner  of  which  she  shrank  herself  up,  looking  —  no 
other  description  will  answer  for  her  —  like  a  portrait 
by  Watteau.  Fler  hair,  of  that  peculiar  shade  called 
black  in  England,  and  chdfa/'n  in  France,  was  drawn 
back  from  her  face,  falling  in  the  studied  disorder  pro- 
duced by  a  clever  hair-dresser,  behind  her  ears  down  on 
her  white  throat.  The  blue  knitted  capuchon  on  the 
back  of  her  head  remained  as  she  had  put  it  on,  to  walk 
down  fn>m  the  troisiiiac  to  l\Irs.  Townsend's  second. 

Mrs.  Townsend  looked  that  evening  in  her  flowing 
white  dress  with  green  ribbons,  like  Lorelei,  so  said 
Mons.  Vertengris.  The  something  strange  that  charac- 
terized her  appearance,  was  one  of  her  attractions;  she 
made  people  look  and  look  again  ;  it  was  easy  to  imagine 
her  liorelei  or  any  spirit  in  pain,  even  a  victim  to  some 
supernatural  influence.  The  extraordinary  brilliancy 
of  luirdark  gray  eyes  was  really  suggestive  of  an  inward 
fire  gradually  consuming  her  ;  and  the  inevitable  imures- 
sion  of  every  one  on  seeing  her  for  the  first  time  was 
wonder,  how  so  frail  a  bark  could  carry  such  a  cargo  of 
life. 

The  conversation  broken  by  the  entrance  of  the  Tuf 
tons  was  not  easily  reknotted.  Mrs.  Townsend  called 
Lill  to  sit  by  her,  and  introduced  Mons.  Vertengris  to 
her.  Mons.  Vertengris  was  much  younger  than  Mons. 
Ix,  and  was  exactly  the  sort  of  a  person  whom  gentle- 
men like  Sir  Mark  and  Edward  Tufton  consider  as  the 
worst  species  of  Frenchmen.  lie  was  tall,  well-made, 
hair  and  eyes  black  as  jet  —  both  lustrous  ;  in  short,  very 

13* 


150  vrun  breaks — pays. 

handsome.  Mons.  Vertengris  made  a  little  sign  exj>res- 
sive  of  his  approbation  of  Miss  Tuftoa's  appearance  to 
the  lady  of  the  house,  with  whom  he  continued  his  con- 
versation, which,  however  ingeniously  he  paraphrased 
her  observations,  did  not  prevent  Lill's  attention  wander- 
ing to  what  was  passing  between  Mons.  Ix  and  Madame 
de  Yerueuil.  Mons.  Ix  might  be  a  man  of  forty,  but  he 
wore  a  wig,  at  least  so  it  seemed  — a  scratch  auburn 
wig,  which  came  down  in  a  point  on  the  forehead,  and 
retired  very  much  from  off  the  temples.  He  had  a  scru- 
tinizing eye,  and  not  a  pleasant  mouth,  with  dazzling 
white  teeth,  as  had  also  Mons.  Vertengris.  His  thin 
lips  twisted  scornfully  as  he  spoke.  To  Madame  de 
Verueuil's  observations  as  to  Lill's  beauty,  he  an- 
swered, — 

"  Yes ;  she  rather  justifies  those  charmingly  impossi- 
ble English  engravings,  but  she  makes  me  think  of  ce 
rosier  hlanc  qui  doit  me  dunner  des  roses  noires ;  in 
short,  fit  to  obtain  a  prize  at  some  flower-show." 

"  Very  unjust."  responded  Madame  de  Vernouil.  "  Qne 
voulez-vous?  moi  jai  le  ma/heur  de  ne  pas  avoir  de 
go&t  pour  les  blondes  filles  d' Albion.  If  it  were  only 
their  unnatural  habit  of  shaking  hands  with  every  man 
they  meet,  I  could  never  adore  them.  I  should  prefer 
to  he  the  first  man  to  press  the  hand  of  my  future  wife." 

Madame  de  Verneuil,  by  a  glance,  guided  Mons.  Ix's 
eyes  towards  Lill,  who,  by  her  deep  blush,  showed  she 
had  overheard  the  criticism. 

"  Have  you  seen  the  dear  political,  theological,  senti- 
mental princess  ?  how  goes  on  her  amiable  recruiting  for 
the  cause  of  Italy  ?" 

"liadly.  since  she  broke  with  the  Oiovane  Italia: 
her  fine  eyes  have  quite  failed  in  melting  the  hard-hearted 
Giulio;  lie  holds  out  against  all  her  stratagems!" 

"Giulio?  don't  know  him,"  said  Ix.  nonchalantly. 

"The  man  of  wood,  son  of  the  Cavalierc  (tiuliani;" 
here  were  some  words  nniMtelligiltle  to  Lill,  whose  whole 
attention  was  engrossed  l)v  this  conversation. 

"Ah!  ah!  The  pm/di'd  of  (Jioberti  — he  that  is  to 
marry  the  daughter  of  an  Knglish  Miledi." 

"lint  the  princess  will  have  him  if  she  cares  to  do  so: 
her  molto  is:  '  Lalnir  rincit  iinprubus.^  " 


SOIREE  TOWNSEND.  151 

A  bustle  at  the  door  announced  a  new  arrival.  A  tall, 
dark  woman,  between  the  two  ages,  to  translate  the 
graphic  French  phrase,  entered,  Icanio"'  on  the  arm  of  a 
geutleman.  Lill  hoard  this  same  lady  accosted  as  Notre 
chire  princesse,  and  coaxed  and  cajoled  by  Madame  de 
Verneuil  and  Mons.  Ix. 

"  I  come  with  such  a  history,"  exclaimed  the  princess. 
"  What  a  world  !  what  a  base,  hypocritical  world,  Mons. 
Ix  !  You  don't  hit  it  hard  enough  in  your  writings.  I 
shall  become  a  greater  pessimist  than  you.  I  shall  re- 
tire to  the  summit  of  Mount  Lebanon." 

"I  ask  nothing  better  than  to  be  allowed  to  accom- 
pany you,"  said  Mons.  I.^.  "There  under  the  broad 
spreading  cedars,  through  the  fine  leaves  of  which  comes 
filtering  the  silver  light  of  the  full  moon — " 

"And  when  there  is  no  full  moon  ?"  interrupted  Ma- 
dame de  Verneuil. 

"  Or  no  trees  ?"  suggested  Mons.  Vertcngris,  believing 
he  was  very  original. 

"  My  faith,  the  case  is  not  foreseen  by  poets,"  answered 
Mons.  Ix. 

"But  my  story,  my  story;  has  no  one  any  interest  in 
my  story  ?  listen  !"  Everybody  was  silent  and  the  prin- 
cess began: "Count  C— ,  —  ah!  T  see  you  guess  the 
name — wants  to  marry  his  son.  Well,  he  hears  of  the 
daughter  of  a  wealthy  merchant  in  L— ,  and  sends  a 
confidential  agent  to  enter  on  the  preliminaries.  The 
father,  Mr.  R — ,  presses  for  the  name  of  the  future  — , 
the  agent  is  not  authorized  to  reveal  it,  but  allows  that 
the  father  of  the  young  man  is  a  count  and  hereditary 
peer.  The  well-pleased  confident  returns  to  Paris  and 
finds  his  principal  at  dinner  with  his  intimate  friend, 
Count  D— .  Count  C—  tells  him  to  speak  out,  for  that 
D —  is  his  bosom  friend,  whereupon  the  agent  announces 
the  success  of  his  negotiations,  gives  the  cipher  of  the 
young  lady's  dowry— a  sum  that  makes  the  mouths  of 
both  counts  water  — and  winds  up  the  narration  by  say- 
ing, that  the  father  had  greatly  urged  him  for  the  name 
of  the  person  who  was  in  treaty  for  the  young  lady's 
hand.  'To  pacify  the  good  papa,'  continued  the  agent, 
'I  told  him  that  T  was  acting  for  a  count  and  peer.' 
'Bien,'  said  Count  C —  ;'you  may  communicate  the  name 


152  WHO    BREAKS — PAYS. 

and  title.'  Count  D —  took  his  leave  immediately  aftei 
dinner,  went  by  rail  to  L — ,  introduced  himself  to  the 
merchant ;  he  was  a  count  and  hereditary  peer ;  bref, 
the  young  lady's  hand  was  promised  to  his  son  when 
Count's  C — 's  agent  reappeared  at  L — ." 

There  was  one  burst  of  laughter,  as  the  princess  con- 
cluded her  story,  from  all  in  the  room  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  Tuftons  :  Sir  Mark  and  Edward  could  not 
follow  the  lady's  rapid  French,  and  Lill  was  indignant. 
"It  was  down  right  cheating,"  she  exclaimed. 

"You  are  right,  mademoiselle,"  said  Mons.  Ix,  ad- 
dressing her  with  a  sort  of  benevolent  look.  "  See  what 
it  is  to  be  young  !  there  is  still  a  fibre  of  honesty  in 
your  heart ;  I  perceive  it  is  a  bad  thing  to  be  no  longer 
young,  ^[ademoiselle,  I  congratulate  you  on  the  power 
of  being  indignant;  in  ten  years  you  will  laugh  like  the 
rest  of  us  when  an  infamy  is  related. 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Lill,  with  a  little  too  much  empha- 
sis for  society. 

Both  cette  chire  princesse  and  Madame  de  Yernouil 
stared  at  Lill  coldly.  But  Mons.  Lx  had  made  his  repu- 
tation, he  wielded  a  waspish  pen,  his  books  were  popular ; 
therefore  when  he  spoke  every  one  listened,  and  took  it 
on  trust  that  what  he  said  was  witty  or  sagacious. 

Mons.  Ix  sat  for  a  tune  with  his  head  hanging  down 
on  his  breast:  then,  as  if  awakening  he  said. — "Yes, 
my  mind  is  made  up.  Youth  is  our  consolation  and 
supreme  resource:  the  best  thing  in  the  world, — you 
shrug  your  shoulders,  ladies, — not  for  its  smooth  skin 
and  bright  eyes,  though  such  gifts  are  not  worthless, — 
far  from  that;  but  I  adore  it  for  its  folly  and  exagger- 
ations, generally  the  exaggeration  of  some  generous 
sentiment." 

Mons.  Yertengris  kindly  wished  to  interpose  some 
praise  in  behalf  of  those  whose  youth  had  fled  ;  he  re- 
sorted as  usual  to  a  para])hriise  of  something  he  had 
heard  or  read.  "True,  a  smiling  plain  is  charming,  but 
a  fine  ruin  excites  our  curiosity." 

"Bravo,"  exclaimed  L\,  with  a  twist  of  liis  mouth. 
"Well,  for  my  part,  I  accept  vour  simile  with  trrali- 
tudc." 

After  this  Ix  ensconced  himself  between  the  princess 
and  Madame  de  Verneuil,  and  of  their  conversation  nnlv 


SOIREE   TOWXSEND.  153 

nncoDnected  sentences  reached  Lill ;  but  they  interested 
her,  for  the  subject  was  Italy. 

"  'Waiting  for  his  star  ;'  it  will  be  long  enough  before 
it  comes  to  him,"  said  the  princess. 

"J'attends  mon  astre."  Lill  knew  that  was  Charlea 
Albert's  device. 

Here  more  guests  entered,  and  what  followed  was  lost 
to  her.  Sir  Mark  at  every  new  entrance  turned  a  re- 
proachful glance  on  Mrs.  Townsend,  who  did  the  honours 
with  a  perfect  grace,  that  even  Mons.  Ix  allowed  to  be 
worthy  of  a  l^xrisian.  Suddenly  Lill  saw  Mdlle,  Arse- 
nieir.  The  Russian  came  up  to  her,  and  in  her  careless, 
loud  way,  said, — 

"  I  drop  from  the  clouds  ;  I  believed  you  were  already 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Channel.  You  have,  then, 
turned  a  cold  shoulder  to  Italy  ?" 

Lill  asked  for  Lady  Ponsonby. 

"Ah  !  poor  lady,  she  has  had  bad  news  of  her  son  in 
India ;  but  there  is  compensation, — he  is  about  to  return 
to  Europe." 

INldlle.  ArseniofT's  business  there  was  to  play,  and  not  to 
gossip;  so  she  left  Lill  with  her  curiosity  quite  unsated. 

"Always  that  German  music,"  exclaiiiu>d  the  princess. 
"Italian  music  is  as  much  avoided  as  if  it  were  a  politi- 
cal prisoner.  Hfon  dicu  !  how  I  detest  those  ti,  ti,  ti, 
echoed  by  torn,  tom,  tom  !  Ah  !  cher  ami,"  to  Mons.  Ix, 
"la  guerre  sortira  de  ces  faux  accords,"  said  she  re- 
turning to  her  foruK^r  suliject. 

"  That  may  well  be ;  they  are  very  irritating  to  the 
ear,"  said  Ix,  laughing. 

"  The  idea,"  continued  the  princess,  perfectly  uncon- 
scious of  the  qnid  iiro  quo  of  what  she  had  just  said, 
"  of  a  pope  at  the  head  of  a  liberal  movement,  and 
Francis  of  Modcna  granting  concesssion  !  God  give  me 
patience  !  we  are  not  yet  in  the  millennium;  when  the 
tiger  will  lie  down  with  the  lamb." 

Lill  only  once  caught  a  word  which  she  believed  re- 
ferred to  Giuliani. 

"As  to  him,  he  has  retrograded  into  a  constitutionalist, 
sees  no  hope  for  Italy  luit  in  Piedmont:  that  party  in- 
creases,  it  is  not  he  individually,  but  his  name  counts, 
and  he  is  honest."  ^ 

To  an  observation  of  Mons.  Ix  the  princess  replied,— 


154  WHO  BREAKS — PAYS. 

^'Affaire  de  coeur.  Bali !  one  of  those  men  who  has 
no  blood  in  his  veins  " 

Mons.  Yertengris  was  singing,  and  just  at  this  inter- 
esting crisis  sent  forth  a  volume  of  voice  that  over- 
powered every  other  sound. 

Mrs.  Townsend  afterwards  tried  to  persuade  Lill  to 
sing,  but  in  vain,  spite  of  Sir  Mark's  frowns  ;  the  English 
girl  was  really  afraid  of  the  two  Parisian  ladies. 

The  guests  at  last  slipped  away  one  by  one ;  Mons. 
Yertengris  standing  before  Mrs.  Townsend  for  at  least 
three  minutes  and  a  half,  and  then  for  as  long  before 
Lill,  with  his  feet  drawn  close  together,  his  hat  in  both 
hands  in  a  line  with  his  knees,  and  his  head  bent  down  on 
his  chest.  It  was  Mons.  Yertengris'  way  of  taking  leave, 
and  expressive  of  his  most  distinguished  sentiments. 
The  ladies  bowed  and  curtsied  themselves  away  under 
Mons.  Tx's  guard,  and  the  Tuftons  alone  remained. 

"  Who  is  that  woman  with  the  moustache  ?"  asked  Sir 
Mark,  gruffly. 

'•Woman?  what  woman?"  repeated  Mrs.  Townsend 
with  an  artless  air.  She  had  drawn  Lill  down  on  the 
sofa  by  her  side,  and  was  playing  with  a  curl  gf  her 
hair. 

"  Well,  that  lady,  if  you  choose  to  call  her  so." 

'  Oh  !  M.adame  la  Princessc  de  — ,  born  Countess  — " 

The  names  were  too  historical  for  even  Sir  Mark  to 
sneer  at. 

"  And  the  other,  with  her  saucy  face  ?" 

"Madame  de  Yernenil.  I  believe  she  has  no  title  to 
ofTond  you." 

"  And  where  are  the  hnsbands  of  these  great  dames?" 

"  The  prince  is  in  his  own  country,  and  as  for  Madame 
de  Yerneuil,  she  has  too  much  esprit  to  l)e  anything  l)iit 
a  widow;"  and.  with  one  of  her  sweetest  smiles.  Mrs 
Townsend  pointed  to  the  clock,  which  marked  an  Imur 
after  midnight. 

Home  lii(>  three  Tuftons  drove  in  inimical  silence  ;  for 
Bilenees  have  as  many  meanings  as  words.  Each  received 
their  candh'  willi  a  iniitlered  good-night.  Certainly, 
nrver  in  any  family  was  there  less  of  ceremony,  less  of 

f)oliteneas.  than  in  that  of  the 'I'nftims  :  it  may  be  added 
ess  of  ciirdialKy  also,  which,  in  many  ca.ses  redeems  tlir 
rudencHs  of  home  manners. 


SOIREK   TOWNSEND.  15£ 

Sir  Mark  had  always  been  and  was  the  last  person  ic 
the  world  to  whom  Lill  evor  api)lied  for  any  indulgence, 
or  advice,  or  assistance.  She  had  never  heard  the  door 
close  against  him  but  with  a  sensation  of  pleasurable 
relief. 

As  for  Edward  Tufton,  he  was  a  specimen  of  the  sort 
of  youth  Mr.  Carlyle  would  keep  for  some  years  under  a 
tub  ;  full  uf  lively  sympathy  for  the  powers  that  be,  very 
good-natnred  when  he  had  his  own  way. 

Lill  did  not  intend  to  be  cruel  to  Ruth,  but  she  allowed 
her  to  go  on  In'ushing  her  hair  indefinitely.  'J'wenty-one 
days  since  she  had  sj)oken  to  (jiuliani.  She  was  glad 
now  she  had  been  to  Mrs.  Townsend's.  Poor  Lill  !  to 
think  of  her  finding  consolation  in  the  windy  words  of 
two  women  of  the  world  !  Nevertheless,  it  was  a  balm 
to  her  pride  that  Giuliani  was  canvassed  for  by  a  prin- 
cess of  great  lineage  ;  that  his  name  was  held  as  a  power 
by  one  of  the  most  noble  of  his  own  nation. 

Madame  de  Vernexiil  and  Mons.  Ix  spoke  of  him  as  on 
a  par  with  this  lady,  whose  escutcheon  had  figured  in 
the  Crusades.  His  giving  lessons  had  not  been  alluded 
to.  How  she  wished  Sir  Mark  and  Edward  Tufton  had 
heard  how  respectfully  he  was  mentioned!  they  would 
not  dare  then  to  ti-cat  him  with  cont(Miipt.  Mons.  L\  did 
not  seem  to  think  there  was  anything  out  of  the  way  in 
Gjuliani's  marrying  Miss  Ponsonby ;  and  she  was  the 
daughter  of  one  baronet  and  the  sister  of  another, 
quite  of  the  same  rank  as  Lill  herself. 

"  If  English  people,"  mused  Lill,  "  Avere  only  as  liberal 
as  the  French ;  but  they  are  so  ferociously  exclusive. 
You  must  be  English  to  the  very  marrow  of  your  bones 
to  please  the  English.  A  grain  of  contincutalism,  and 
one  is  lost." 

She  remembered  feeling  in  this  way  once  herself.  Poor 
Lill  !  what  a  vexed  sigh  she  gave  ! 

It  was  a  curious  illustration  of  the  impression  of 
truthfulness  Giuliani  had  made  on  her,  that  she  entirely 
set  aside  as  nonsense  all  the  gossip  that  associated  his 
name  with  that  of  Miss  Ponsonby. 

At  last  Ruth,  who  had  fallen  asleep  in  her  operations, 
gave  her  mistress's  head  such  a  knock  with  the  brush, 
that  Lill  uttered  a  little  scream,  and  repentantly  sent 
Ruth  away  to  her  bed. 


156  WHO    BREAKS — PATS. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Scbahabaham 

Mademoiselle  Arsexieff  was  a  Cossack  from  the 
borders  of  the  Don.  Scarcely  yet  tamed  by  her  two 
years'  residence  in  Paris,  Lady  Ponsonby  and  Alicia  had 
rescued  her  from  a  peculiarly  disagreeable  position,  and 
had  assisted  her  to  attain  her  great  end.  viz.  that  of  be- 
coming a  pianiste.  For  these  two  ladies  Mdlle.  Arse- 
nieff  entertained  that  sort  of  attachment  which  a  savage 
may  be  supposed  to  feel  for  a  benefactor.  By  any  means 
right  or  wrong,  his  benefactor  is  to  be  protected  and 
benefited.  Admitted  as  one  of  the  intimates  of  the 
Ponsonby  family,  the  Russian  girl  had  di.*covered  Alicia's 
attachment  to  Uiuliani ;  and  from  the  moment  she  had 
read  in  his  eyes  his  admiration  of  Lill,  she  had  taken 
for  Miss  Tufton  an  unreasoning  aversion  founded  on  her 
gratitude  to  Alicia.  iShe  hated  (Giuliani  for  being  in- 
scnsil)le  to  Alicia's  superiority  ;  in  her  heart  she  accused 
him  of  mean  Morship  (^f  wealth,  and  after  all  the  Pon- 
sonby's  kindness  to  him  !  lint  Mdlle.  Arsenieff  possessed 
the  powers  of  dissimulation,  as  well  as  the  blind  devotion, 
of  a  savage.  She  veiled  her  attacks  under  a  show  of 
frankness,  which  went  well  with  her  broad  o])en  face.     . 

Lill,  on  the  contrary,  had  taken  a  liking  to  Mdlle. 
Arsenieff,  and  whenever  she  heard  of  any  one  requiring 
music  lessons,  or  some  pianiste  for  the  evening,  she  al- 
ways recomiiu'Miled  Lady  Ponsonby's  prnlS'iic.  It  was 
Lill  who  had  proposed  to  Mrs.  Townsend  to  invite  the 
Russian.  Nothing  mollified  by  this  good-nature,  Mdlle. 
ArseniefTconducted  a  series  of  covert  attacks  against  Lill, 
moreeK])ecially  \vlien(iiuliaui  was  present,  and  always  with 
rare  precision  hitting  on  incidents  peculiarly  distasteful 
to  him.  She  described  and  exaggerated  the  e.xjiensive 
etyle  of  Miss  Tufton's  dress;  spoke  of  her  as  being  sur- 
rounded by  a  phalanx  of  admirers;  one  to  hold  her 
snu'lling  Ixittle,  others  her  fan,  her  bomiuet;  relating 
that  she  had  entered  a  ball-room  leaning  on  AL-.  Tufton's 
arm,  and  that  her  manner  was  such  to  the  young  man, 
that  every  one  said,   if  she   were  not   his  JiancSc,  sh» 


SCHAHABAHAM.  157 

jught  to  be ;  that  Madame  Townsend  was  a  woman  to 
ruin  a  steadier  girl  than  Madlle.  Lill ;  and.  in  short,  with- 
out Ijringiiig  any  real  accusation  against  Lill.  slic  managed 
to  give  (jiiuliani  a  lively  image  of  pride,  coquetry,  aud 
indiscretion. 

There  is  a  coarse,  light  way  of  relating,  that  throws 
listeners  off  their  guard;  besides,  Giuliani  had  strong 
prejudices  wliich  allowed  him  to  be  led  and  misled  wlien 
persons  far  his  inferiors  in  intelligence  escaped  the  trap. 

One  evening  Valentine  exclaimed  after  the  departure 
of  Mdlle.  Arsenieff. — 

"What  motive  can  Mdlle.  Arsenieff  have  for  constantly 
speaking  ill  of  Miss  Tufton  ?" 

This  was  after  the  pianiste  had  successfully  mimicked 
IVFons.  Vertengris  and  Edward  Tufton,  and  declared  that 
there  would  be  a  duel  between  them  to  decide  who 
should  carry  off  the  belle. 

"No  motive  at  all,"  said  Lady  Ponsonby,  "but  that 
she  is  amused  by  the  vagaries  of  a  set  of  persons  hither- 
to undreamed  of  ])y  her." 

"  AVell,  mother,  I  don't  agree  with  you.  She  persists 
top  much  in  one  strain  for  it  to  be  natural ;  it's  very  like 
a  jealous  woman." 

As  no  one  answered,  he  asked, — 

"  Wliat  has  Miss  Tufton  done  to  you  all,  that  you  seem 
actually  ))leased  with — " 

"  My  dear  Valentine !"  interrupted  the  mother  and 
daughter. 

"  Let  me  finish  my  sentence  :  yes,  you  are  pleased,  and 
do  encourage  Mdlle.  ArseniefTs  ill-nature  by  your  laugh- 
ter. Whatever  Miss  Tufton  may  do,  I  am  sure  she  is 
never  unladylike,  and  that  is  what  you  cannot  say  for 
your  Russian  favourite." 

"  Valentine,  you  mistake ;  no  one  here  wishes  ill  to 
Miss  Tufton,"  said  Giuliani,  gravely ;  "  at  the  same  time 
it  is  not  easy  to  approve  of  her  entire  neglect  of  your 
mother  With  carriage  and  horses  she  might  have  made 
her  way  here  once  in  the  last  three  weeks ;  formerly  she 
never  allowed  two  days  to  pass  without  calling." 

"  There's  something  wrong,  about  which,  1  am  not  in 
the  secret,"  said  Valentine ;  "  but  I  knew  Miss  Tufton 
before  any  of  you :  I  have  seen  her  surrounded  by  men 

14 


l.")H  WHO    BREAKS — PAYS. 

aud  I  swear  she  never  flirted  with  one  or  a  dozen,  or 
gave  her  flowers  or  her  handkerchief  to  any  one  to  hohl : 
she  is  as  prt)iul  as  a  queen  !  But  all  women  love  to  pull 
a  pretty  girl  to  pieces,"  and  out  of  the  room  flung  honest 
Valentine. 

"  Valentine  is  right,"  said  Alicia ;  "  we  have  all  been 
encouraging  Mdlle.  ArsenieS".  I  shall  speak  seriously 
to  her  to-raorrow ;  and  as  for  Miss  Tufton's  visits  here, 
probably  she  only  states  the  fact  when  she  says  it  is  not 
her  fault  that  she  does  not  come." 

'J'his  outbui'st  of  Valentine's  had  its  effect  on  Gitiliani ; 
it  determined  him  to  accept  of  an  invitation  to  dinner  he 
shortly  after  received  from  Mrs.  Calcdon  ;  the  note  said, 
to  meet  Mons.  Villcmasson,  the  great  philosopher,  and 
warm  admirer  of  Italy,  tlie  'J'uftons,  and  a  few  other 
friends,     lie  would  go  and  judge  for  himself. 

The  Tuftons  were  already  in  the  Caledon's  drawing- 
room  when  (iiuliani  was  announced.  Lill  had  hoard  he 
A'as  expected,  and  hoped  to  be  able  to  maintain  a  placid 
■jxterior  when  she  should  see  him.  But  the  sound  of  his 
voice- — she  could  not  look  up — covered  her  face  and 
'.hroat  with  a  scarlet  blush.  Edward  Tuftou  was  on  one 
side  of  her  and  Mrs.  Townsend  on  the  other.  Mrs. 
Calcdon  had  hold  of  Giuliani's  arm  and  was  iiresenting 
him  to  Mons.  Villcmasson,  her  great  lion,  a  most  flourish- 
ing specimen  of  a  philosopher ;  flowing  grey  hair  comlied 
back  from  a  face  with  a  complexion  that  looked  like 
strawberries  and  cream,  a  ligure  portly  as  a  bisho])'s, 
hands  like  those  of  a  priest ; — this  nice  old  gentleman 
stood  conversing  with  Giuliani  for  some  time,  and  Lill 
liopcd  that  every  one  would  remark  the  extreme  cordi- 
ality of  the  celel)rity. 

Mrs.  Caiedon  was  worse  than  the  most  terrible  child 
for  getting  herself  and  her  guests  into  scrapes;  she 
pre>^('n11y  brought  Giuliani  up  to  Lill,  saying, — 

" 'I'he  master  must  take  the  ]>u])il  down  to  dinner;  it 
will  l)e  a  good  opptirt unity  for  him  to  see  wlicther  sho 
has  forgotten  her  Italian." 

And,  having  done  this,  she  went  away  smiling. 

liill  could  not  tell  wlietlier  Sir  Mark  or  Edward 
Tuftdn  had  heard  i>r  understood  this  speech,  for  almost 
immediately  there  was  a  move  towards  the  dining-room 


SCHAHABAHAM.  159 

and  her  arm  lay  on  that  of  Giuliani.  Neither  had  yet 
Baid  a  word  to  the  other.  If  Lill  had  been  aware  in 
time  that  she  was  going  to  meet  Giuliani  in  this  way, 
she  would  not  have  had  the  courage  to  appear  at  Mrs. 
Calcdon's.  He  took  pity  on  her  excessive  embarrass- 
ment, and,  meaning  to  broach  some  indifferent  subject, 
asked,  "  if  she  had  been  riding  that  morning  T' 

Lill  fancied  his  question  contained  an  allusion  to  the 
day  when  she  had  galloped  away  from  his  sight  con- 
science-stricken ;  once  again  she  flushed,  saying, — 

"  I  know  j'ou  disapprove  of  ladies  riding,  but  I  cannot 
help  it." 

"  My  prejudices  are  not  worth  your  remembering,"  he 
replied,  with  a  forced  smile.  "Ah!  what  is  that  our 
neighbours  are  saying  ?" 

A  very  pleasant  looking,  handsome  English  woman, 
with  that  smooth,  rosy  embonpoint  which  denoted  that 
she  found  this  world  the  best  of  all  possible  worlds,  was 
answering  Mens.  Villemasson,  the  amateur  of  Italy. 

"My  dear  sir,  I  confess  I  have  neither  patience  nor 
sympathy  with  twenty-six  millions  of  people  for  ever 
gnashing  their  teeth,  and  crying  out  for  some  one  to 
come  and  help  them." 

The  benign  philosopher,  who,  perhaps,  found  it  easier 
to  row  with  the  current  than  against  it,  at  all  events  at 
dinner-time,  bethought  him  of  a  means  of  showing  off 
his  friendship  for  Italy  and  his  Konum  Italian  at  the 
same  time  ;  he  burst  forth  : 

"  Piiingi  chi  hen'  hai  donde  I/alia  mia,"  Ac. 

Kind  Mrs.  Calcdon's  eyes  filled,  and  she  glanced  to- 
wards Giuliani,  thougli  the  only  words  she  had  under- 
stood of  the  baron's  quotation  were,  "  Piangi"  and 
"  Italia ;"  they  were  enough,  however,  to  encourage  her 
tears, 

Lill  had  winced  at  the  handsome  lady's  attack  on 
Italians,  and  looked  down  on  her  plate ;  but  MrsyCale- 
don,  in  her  happy  confusion  of  ideas,  exclaimed,  "  Oh ! 
Mr.  Giuliani,  do  say  something  for  your  own  cause." 

General  attention  being  thus  attracted  to  him, 
Giuliani  exclaimed,  with  some  warmth, — 

"  The  question,  I  believe,  is,  why  do  the  Italians  not 
free  themselves.     Ask  Enceladus  why  he  does  not  shaktf 


160  WHO  BREAKS — PAYS. 

off  the  moimtain  under  which  he  is  buried ;  or  Pro. 
metheus,  why  he  does  not  break  his  bonds  and  be  free. 
There  are  attempts  even  beyond  the  strength  of  giants. 
Do  you  know,  madarae,"  more  particularly  addressing 
the  handsome  lady,  "  that  Austria  exercises  an  iron 
sway  in  Lonibardy  and  Yenetia  ;  that  she  keeps,  in  spite 
of  pope  and  cardinals,  let  alone  the  populations,  garri- 
sons at  Ferrara,  Comacchio,  and  Plaisance ;  that  the 
rulers  of Modena.  Parma,  and  Tuscany,  are  offshoots  of 
Austria  ;  that  all  act,  with  the  exception  of  Piedmont, 
as  Austria  bids  ?  Are  we  then  so  wrong,  after  all,  if  we 
call  upon  Europe  to  undo  the  work  of  iniquity  which  in 
an  evil  hour  she  has  done — if  we  protest  against  the 
breach  of  the  most  solemn  jjromises  ?  Yes,  the  i)roniises 
made  to  Italians,  to  induce  Ihem  to  join  the  allies  against 
the  common  enemy,  have  been  forgotten,  and  Austria 
has  been  permitted  to  turn  Italy  into  a  prison.  The 
Croat  encamped  wilhin  the  very  heart  of  our  country, 
a  hundred  thousand  foreign  bayonets,  was  what  i)eace 
blessed  us  with — a  peace  that  was  a  bitter  derision. 
Never  was  oppression,  never  was  compression,  for  us, 
more  pitiless." 

"  What  a  fool !"  muttered  Sir  Mark  to  Mrs.  Townsend. 

"So  he  is,"  she  answered,  "  to  i)e  talking  sense  here." 

"AVell,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Calcdou,  "I  always  thought 
you  such  a  moderate  man." 

"  There  are  matters  in  whicli  moderation  is  cowardice, 
Mrs.  Caledon.  And  now,"  he  added,  smiling,  "my 
violent  fit  is  over,  and  I  return  to  my  natural  disi)ositiou 
of  a  lamb."  Then,  addressing  himself  to  Lill,  he  said,  in 
a  lower  voice,  "  I  am  afraid  I  have  disgraced  myself 
irretrievably  in  the  eyes  of  your  fair  compalriute.  It  is 
not  like  a  gentleman  to  be  warmly  interested  in  any- 
thing, is  it?" 

"  You  speak  English  so  well,  Mr.  Giuliani,  wliy  don't 
yon  say  '  country  w<mian'  and  not  '  cn^njxitriute,'  "  and 
Lill  glanced  at  liiiu  witii  a  pair  of  laughing  eyes;  she 
was  so  pleased  with  this  return  to  his  former  friendly 
manner. 

"  Compatriot  is  English,  I  assure  you,"  he  silid,  with 
amusing  gravity;  "  it  is  in  Craig's  dictionary." 

"It  is  y  then  believe  me,  I  am  sure  you  have  made  a 


SOHAHABAHAM.  161 

warm  friend  of  my  fair  compatriote.     We  English  are 
given  to  enthusiams,"  and  she  blushed  from  sudden  con- 

scionsness. 

He  changed  the  conversation  by  asking  her  if  she  still 
continued  her  lessons  of  Chopin. 

"  Given  up,"  she  said,  "  because  I  have  no  time,  or 
ratlier  because  I  can  no  longer  command  my  time  ;  I 
wish  you  would  believe  me  Mr.  Giuliani." 

"  I  do  believe  you,"  he  answered ;  "  1  regret  to  do  so 
though,  for,  however  amiable,  it  is  a  weakness  to  allow 
yourself  to  be  so  easily  guided." 

Before  Lill  could  answer  there  was  a  general  move 
into  the  drawing-room.  As  they  passed  thither,  Giuliani's 
handsome  adversary  attacked  him  again  with — 

"  I  don't  give  up  my  jjoint,  Signor  Giuliani.  Let  the 
Italians  remember  the  proverb,  '  Providence  helps  those 
who  help  themselves.'  You  see  I  am  dreadfully  com- 
bative :  shall  you  be  afraid  to  come  and  see  me  ?"  and 
the  lady  handed  him  a  card. 

Seated  by  Lill's  side  at  dinner,  Giuliani  had  been 
unable  to  have  a  good  view  of  her ;  while  he  was  listen- 
ing to  his  new  friend,  his  eyes  wandered  to  the  other  end 
of  the  room.  Beautiful  always,  but  something  had  been 
stolen  from  her  beauty ;  something  new  given  to  it. 
There  was  less  of  brilliancy  in  her  complexion  ;  her  eyes 
seemed  to  have  grown  darker,  their  former  proud  bright 
look  was  soCiened,  and  there  were  traces  of  anxiety  in 
the  down  drop  of  the  mouth.  She  was  leaning  back  in 
her  chair,  as  if  fatigued ;  in  short,  Giuliani  discovered 
alterations  in  her  which  went  to  his  heart.  He  did  not 
in  the  least  suspect  how  much  tenderness  there  had 
come  into  his  own  eyes  while  he  thus  contemplated  Lill, 
nor  how  abstracted  he  had  become ;  he  was  passing  sen- 
tence on  himself  as  over  severe. 

The  handsome  lady,  being  a  good-natured  person,  left 
him  to  his  meditations,  much  amused,  and  not  at  all 
oiiended,  to  see  how  soon  after  he  was  by  the  side  of  the 
lovely  Miss  Tufton,  who,  according  to  the  custom  of 
young  ladies,  no  sooner  perceived  him  coming  than  she 
turned  her  head  in  the  opposite  direction. 

"  How  is  it  Jy.iss  Orumpton  is  not  here?"  began  Giu> 
liani. 

14* 


/62  WHO    BREAKS — PAYS. 

"  Because  she  has  taken  the  most  extraordinary  di» 
like  to  Mrs.  Townsend,  and  shuts  herself  up  to  avoid 
her." 

"And  you,  do  you  sympathize  with  Miss  Crumpton  ?" 

"Not  at  all,"  answered  Lill,  warmly;  then  sobering 
her  tone  and  looking  almost  deprccatingly  at  Giuliani, 
she  added  "  I  like  her,  and  I  cannot  say  why." 

"  The  expression  of  your  face  reveals  that  you  are  ex- 
pecting some  reproof  from  me.  Was  I,  then,  so  severe 
a  master  ?" 

The  words  !  they  were  nothing,  as  words  often  are ; 
but  the  voice,  how  eloquent  it  was  !  Lill  did  not  speak, 
she  was  frightened  at  the  tone ;  she  looked  round  quickly 
to  see  who  was  near,  she  even  made  a  movement  as  if 
she  would  have  taken  flight. 

"Do  you  wish  me  to  go  away?"  he  asked. 

"  No,  stay ;"  yet  the  transparent  eyelids  lay  obsti- 
nately over  the  sweet  eyes.  At  last,  with  a  great  effort 
compelling  herself  to  speak,  she  said  — 

"  Yes,  you  are  inclined  always  to  be  severe." 

"Do  not  call  it  severity,"  he  said,  then  added,  "But 
how  can  I  expect  you  to  understand  what  passes  in  a 
man's  soul  when  he  has  nothing  but  the  bread  of  the 
proscribed." 

"Prenez  mon  ours,"  whispered  a  merry  voice,  and  a 
slender  figure  insinuated  itself  betweecn  Giuliani  and 
Miss  Tnfton.  "Mrs.  Calcdon  will  be  with  you  innncdi- 
ately,  you  look  so  melancholy  a  couple ;  and,  dear  wo- 
man, wherever  she  has  seen  any  one  with  a  triste  air, 
she  has  gone  up  to  them  with,  '  Prenez  man  ours.'  She 
liad  oflVrod  him  twice  to  Sir  Mark,  and  once  to  cousin 
Edward.  Look  how  she  makes  him  dance  !  how  well  he 
bows  I" 

Mrs.  Calcdon  was,  indeed,  moving  anxiously  about 
with  her  arm  witiiin  that  of  Muns.  Villcmasson,  present- 
ing him  first  to  one  person  and  tlicn  to  another.  Lill 
tried  to  laugh,  and  Giuliani  smiled. 

"  If  you  will  let  me  bring  in  my  chair,"  continued  Mrs. 
Townsend,  "  I'll  tell  yciu  a  story.  There,  now  we  are 
comfortable,"  she  said,  much  as  a  child  might  have  done. 
She  began,  "Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  famouB 
pacha  —  I  f^orget  his  name — " 


SCHAHABAHAM.  163 

"  SchalKibaliam  !"  suggested  Giuliani. 

"  How  strange  you  should  know  anything  of  vaude- 
villes," observed  Mrs.  Towuseud,  staring  at  Giuliani. 
"  Uncommonly  sensible,  though.  Well,  Mr.  Schahaba- 
ham  had  a  favourite,  whom  he  prizcul  far  beyond  his 
sultana,  or  his  flrst  minister,  though  that  personage  was 
half  an  idiot ;  and  who  do  you  think,  or  what  do  you 
think,  this  favourite  of  the  pacha's  might  be  ?  Do  you 
give  it  up  ?  why  a  great  bear  —  the  Great  Bear  prob- 
jibly  —  an  excellent  creature  in  its  way,  and  which, 
under  pretext  of  being  a  bear,  never  spoke.  Poor  beast ! 
in  spite  of  being  adored  by  pacha,  minister,  and  the  whole 
nation,  one  day  it  died.  It's  dreadful  in  any  country  to 
the  bearer  of'  bad  tidings ;  but  in  the  kingdom  of  the 
Pacha  Scha  —  "  she  looked  at  Giuliani. 

"  Schahabaham." 

"  Exactly ;  there  it  was  dangerous  to  men's  heads  ;  so 
you  may  imagine  the  prime  minister's  joy  when  he  heard 
of  the  arrival  in  the  capital  of  the  pacha's  dominions  of 
two  European  merchants.  They  would  be  a  novelty 
which  might  divert  the  pacha's  grief  when  he  heard,  as 
hear  he  must,  of  his  irreparable  loss.  But  to  every  pro- 
position of  the  minister  to  present  the  strangers  at 
court,  they  shook  their  heads  saying  '  Prenez  mon 
ours.' " 

"  Lill,  my  dear  young  friend,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Calcdou, 
"you  are  looking  very  serious  to-night.  Allow  me  to 
introduce  Mous.  Villemassou.  Miss  Tufton  —  Mons. 
Villemasson." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  rather  an  unlikely  person  to  drive 
away  a  young  lady's  melancholy,"  said  the  benign  old 
man. 

"  You  vnll  find  Miss  Tufton  incorrigible,"  said  Mrs. 
Townsend,  "  because  she  knows  a  pensive  attitude  suits 
her  so  well.  She  has  positively  resisted  my  story  of  U 
Ours  et  le  Pacha." 

"  Ha,  ha  1  prenez  mon  ours,"  said  the  Frenchman, 
promptly ;  "  but  one  must  see  it  acted  to  feel  the  droll- 
ery," and  he  laughed  the  good-natured  laugh  peculiar  to 
very  fat  men. 

By  this  time  Mrs.  Caledon  had  discovered  some  other 
Schahabaham  in  want  of  consolation,  and  carried  off  her 


L64  WHO  BREAKS — PATS. 

precious  guest.     Mrs.  Townsend,  her  bright  eyes  follow- 
ing the  strangely  assorted  couple  said  to  Giuliani,  — 

"  Have  you  ever  forgotten  that  men  and  women  were 
men  and  women,  and  looked  at  them  as  you  would  do  at 
the  animals  in  the  Jardin  des  Plantes.  Really,  when 
narrowly  examined,  humanity  is  not  so  very  pretty,  that 
any  of  us  have  a  right  to  be  proud  of  it.  A  crowded 
room  always  disgusts  me  with  my  fellow  mortals.  How 
clever  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans  to  have  draperies  to 
hide  the  poorness  of  the  human  figure  !  I  can  bear  the 
sight  now  and  then  of  a  man's  head ;  don't  you  believe 
the  soul  to  be  in  the  brain  ?" 

"  We  must  call  back  Mons.  Yilleraasson,  he  is  just  the 
man  to  answer  your  query."  said  Giuliani. 

"  To  offer  me  one  of  his  own  peculiar  hobbies,  you 
mean ;  prentz  mon  ours,  in  fact." 

"As  for  me,"  rejoined  Giuliani,  "  I  confess  I  have 
never  tried  to  discover  in  what  particular  niche  of  our 
bodies  the  soul  may  be  quartered  ;  1  know  it  is  the  prin- 
cijjle  of  our  life  here  and  hereafter." 

Mrs.  Townsend  buried  her  face  in  her  bouquet,  then 
said, — 

"There  !  no  more  of  such  dreadful  churchyard  words; 
let  us  live  the  day  and  be  satisfied.  Lill,  tliere's  a  pansy 
for  you  —  it  means  sweet  thoughts,"  and  the  little  lady 
sauntered  away. 

"  You  must  not  judge  of  Mrs.  Townsend  by  her  man- 
ners in  society,"  observed  Lill.  "  She  is  very  chari- 
table, and  always  ready  to  oblige." 

"She  is  interesting,"  he  replied,  "but  like  one  whose 
mind  is  jangled  and  out  of  tune.  I  should  say  she  pos- 
sessed unusual  pciiel ration  :  her  eves  actualiv  seem  to 
pierce  into  one's  mind.  1  suspect  she  has  a  marvellous 
power  of  reading  the  thoughts  of  those  about  her,  and — " 
he  stopped. 

"  Well  !'  said  Lill,  a  little  anxiously. 

"  She  will  be  no  friend  to  uic,"  he  rei)lied  in  a  lower 
voice. 

Lill  dill  not  make  any  attempt  to  continue  the  conver 
Bation  and  ( iiuliaiii,  hurt  at  licr  silence,  said  no  more,  but 
he  kept  liis  place  by  her  side.  Once  Kdward  'I'lil'lou 
came  to  Lill,  under  pretence  of  asking  her  if  she  wuuld 


SCHAHABAHAM.  1G5 

liave  an  ice.  Though  she  declined  it,  Edward  remained 
standing-  before  her,  endeavoring  to  engross  all  her  at- 
tention, pretending  perfect  unconsciousness  of  Giuliani's 
being  there. 

When  the  moment  of  departure  came,  the  two  men 
each  offered  her  an  arm.  Lill  felt  bound  to  accept 
Giuliani's  ;  not  for  the  fear  of  twenty  Sir  Mark  Tuftons, 
would  she  have  mortified  him  by  showing  a  prefence  for 
Edward. 

The  Italian  it  was,  also,  who  put  her  cloak  round  her. 
Mrs.  Townsend  was  flirting  with  Sir  Mark,  who  naturally 
had  no  eyes  but  for  her,  when  she  chose  to  be  agreeable. 
Young  Tuftou  looked  on  as  sulky  as  a  bear. 


166  WnO   BREAKS — PAYS. 


CHAPTER  XXYII. 

Seeing  is  believing. 

Edward  Tufton's  sulkiness  having'  outlasted  his 
Blumbers,  Lill  resolved  to  get  out  of  his  way  ami  go 
over  to  Mrs.  Townsead. 

As  she  was  leaving  the  breakfast-room,  Edward 
called  out,  '•  Where  are  you  going  so  early  ?" 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  I  did  not  distinctly  hear  your 
question ;"  she  opened  her  large  eyes  on  him  and  spoke 
in  a  peculiarly  quiet  tone.  He  was  in  his  right  place  at 
once ;  he  muttered  some  words  she  did  not  care  to  hear, 
rang  the  bell  furiously,  and  asked  for  Galignani's  Mes- 
senger. 

Lill  found  Mrs.  Townsend  in  her  own  room,  lying  on  a 
sofa  in  a  peignoir,  her  long  fair  hair  escaping  from  the 
comb  with  which  it  had  been  hastily  caught  up.  On  a 
table  before  her  was  something  like  a  toy,  a  piece  of 
wood  in  the  shape  of  a  heart,  mounted  on  three  tiny 
wheels  ;  in  her  hands  a  book  with  a  yellow  paper  cover. 
As  Lill  entered,  she  pushed  the  book  under  the  sofa 
pillow,  and  said,  "Sit  down  by  me,  Lill,  I  have  some- 
thing serious  to  say  to  you." 

Lill  remembered  Giuliani's  words,  and  was  sure  that 
she  was  going  to  be  cross-examined. 

"  I  have  been  consulting  Flanchette  about  you,"  went 
on  Mrs.  Townsend. 

"  Who  is  Flanchette  ?"  asked  Lill,  doing  all  she  could 
to  seem  at  her  ease  under  the  scrutiny  of  the  little 
lady. 

"  Tliere  she  is,"  said  Mrs.  Townsend,  pointing  to  the 
apparent  toy.  "  Seeing  is  l)elieving.'''  So  saying,  she  drew 
towards  her  a  blank  sheet  of  folio  paper,  and  upon  it 
jdaced  what  she  called  I'lauciiette  :  in  the  broadest  end 
of  the  heart  was  a  hole,  in  which  was  already  fixed  a 
])hick-lead  pencil,  with  the  ])oint  downwards.  Mrs.  Town- 
6cn<i  ])nt  licr  hand  on  the  wood,  exactly  as  siie  would 
have  done  on  the  keys  of  a  piano-forte. 

"Now,  IManchetle,"  she  exclaimed,  "  let  us  seo  what 
you  can  do." 


SEEING    IS    BELIEVING.  167 

In  a  second  or  two  Plancliette  wildly  scoured  across 
the  paper,  first  one  way,  then  another ;  Mrs.  Towusend'a 
hands  obeying  every  capricious  turn  of  its  wheels.  At 
last  they  came  to  a  standstill. 

"  Now  then,  Lill,  see  what  she  has  written ;  thereV 
no  trick  in  it,  I  assure  you." 

"  I  can  see  nothiug  but  a  set  of  unmeaning  strokes." 

"  Give  it  to  me,  child." 

Lill  handed  the  paper  to  her  friend. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  this,  Planchette  ?"  cried  Mrs. 
Townsend.  "Why  do  you  persist  in  writing  'river;' 
every  time  I  have  tried  her  this  morning,"  continued 
she,  quite  gravely,  "  she  has  written  the  same  word 
'  river.'  Don't  smile  ;  it  means  a  warning  to  you,  for  ] 
told  Planchette  that  it  was  for  you  I  consulted  her. 
Come,  Planchette.  dear  Planchette,  do  be  a  little  more 
clear,"  and  Mrs.  Townsend  with  great  seriousness,  put 
another  sheet  of  paper  beneath  the  wood. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  are  in  earnest,"  said  Lill. 

"Of  course  you  won't  believe  me,"  answered  Mrs. 
Townsend.  "A  truth  is  always  condemned  at  first : 
Galileo  said  the  world  moved,  and  it  was  called  a  heresy. 
Well,  you  may  believe  J  move  Planchette ;  I  can  only 
reply,  'e  pure  si  muove.'  "  A  bright  red  spot  of  excite- 
ment was  on  each  of  the  speaker's  cheeks. 

"It  was  one  of  your  favourite  Italians"  (this  was  a 
side  thrust  at  Lill)  "  who  gave  me  Planchette,  and  if  T 
had  always  attended  to  Planchette's  counsel,  I  should 
be  wiser  and  better  than  I  am.  Many  a  beautiful  letter 
of  advice  she  has  written  me,  alluding  to  events  no  one 
knew  but  myself;  and  prayers,  ah  !  Lill,  I  could  show 
you  such  sublime  prayers  she  has  written." 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Townsend!  dear  Honora!"  exclaimed 
Lill,  quite  shocked. 

"  I  believed  as  little  as  you  do  once,  but  as  I  said  be- 
fore, seeing  is  believing  ;  and  one  day  I  was  dining  out 
and  people  were  talking  of  spirit-rapping  and  table- 
turning  ;  I  laughed  and  said  I  would  believe  if  the  din- 
ner-table rose  up  and  slapped  my  hand.  I  held  my  hand 
high  above  the  table  ;  you  do  not  think  I  would  tell  you  a 
fib,  Lill.  I  give  you  my  word  of  honour,  suddenly  every- 
thing in  the  room  seemed  to  wave  before  my  eyes,  and 


168  WHO   BREAKS — PATS. 

the  table,  a  great  heavy  dining-table,  jumped  up  an^ 
slapped  my  hand.  It  was  the  same  evening  I  first  saw 
Planchette  and  found  out  I  was  a  medium.  Oh  !  the 
comfort  I  have  had  in  J'lanchette ;  she  has  been  a  friend 
to  me  in  my  loneliness." 

Lill  began  now  seriously  to  fear  that  Mrs.  Towusend 
was  mad. 

"  No,  my  dear  girl,"  said  she  ;  "  I  am  as  sane  as  you. 
Poor  Lill  !  I  can  read  your  face  easier  than  this  warn- 
ing of  Planchette's,  '  River  !  river  I'  "  she  repeated. 
"  Come,  you  put  your  hands  on  it  with  mine." 

It  was  quite  droll  to  see  the  two  ladies  sitting  silent 
and  expectant  with  their  hands  on  the  wooden  heart, 
which,  however  coaxed  by  her  devotee,  remained  stub- 
bornly immovable. 

"Take  your  hands  off;  she  knows  you  are  an  unbe- 
liever;" away  ran  Planchette  freed  from  Lill's  pressure. 
"Ah  !  she  has  written  '  Lilian',  and  put  a  great  cross 
after  it." 

"  Lilian  is  my  christian  name,"  said  Lill. 

"  There  now,  do  you  believe  ?  I  swear  to  you  I  did 
not  know  you  were  called  Lilian,  though  I  must  say  I 
have  often  wondered  what  your  real  name  was." 

Lill  did  not  choose  to  contradict  her  friend,  or  even 
to  say  that  the  word  she  declared  was  Lilian  might  have 
served  as  well  as  any  other  in  the  dictionary. 

"  Lilian,  and  a  cross,  and  river  ;  I  can't  uuikc  it  out," 
and  Mrs.  Townsend  pushed  away  IMauchette,  except 
that  she  means  you  are  likely  to  be  crossed  in  love." 

"  She  ouglit,  then,  to  have  written  'willow'  instead  of 
'river.'"  said  liill,  with  a  faint  atteni])t  at  a  laugh;  "or, 
perhaps,  I  am  to  drown  myself  as  poor  Ophelia  did." 

"Who  can  tell?"  said  Mrs.  Towusend.  "  Jlave  you 
seen  Pedagogus  to-day — that  ugly  num  whose  eyes  were 
like  burning-glasses  last  night  ?  Ah!  Lill!  liill!  stop 
in  time;  it's  such  arrant  folly." 

"  What  can  make  you  suppose — "  Lill  began. 

"1  don't  su])pose,"  interrupted  Mrs.  'J'ownsend.     "Do 
you  think    Pedagogus   is   the  first  num   in  love  I  have 
seen,  and  yo>i  tlie  first  girl,  half  fascinated,  half  fright- 
ened.    l>o  you  know  what's  the  great  cause  of  wicked 
ness  in  the  world,  Lill  ?     Poverty  1     Do  you  know  why 


SEEING    IS    BELIEVING.  169 

I  !im  trying  to  brinj^'  myself  to  marry  Sir  Mark  ?  Be- 
cause 1  am  poor  !  0  my  dear  girl  !  shun  poverty  more 
than  death." 

Here  Mrs.  Townsend  rang  a  little  hand  bell ;  it  was  a 
summons  for  Madlle.  Athenais. 

"  Give  me  my  drops  quick ;  you  may  give  me  a  hun- 
dred. 1  married  for  love,"  continued  she,  after  having 
SAvallowed  her  dose.  "  AVitli  your  habits  it  would  be 
the  same  with  you  as  with  me  :  borrowing,  borrowing, 
Lill,  first  from  one  man,  then  another.  Impossible,  j'ou 
say,  you  should  do  such  things.  You  know  nothing 
about  it.  Your  husband's  intimates  see  your  distress, 
and  one  or  other  helps  you,  and  then  one  gets  accustomed. 
There's  a  whole  set  of  men  I  hate  to  meet.  If  Sir  Mark 
would  pay  them  Mr.  Townsend's  debts  I  would  marry 
the  old  gentleman  to-morrow.  Oh  !  dear,  and  then  the 
end  of  love.  What  years  I  passed  with  a  drunken, 
furious  man,  about  as  like  the  one  I  married  as  Satan  to 
the  angel  Gabriel.  Lill !  Lill !  what  a  life  mine  has 
been  !  I  was  meant  for  better  things :  nothing  saved 
from  the  wreck ;  and  time  is  going  so  fast,  so  fast,  and  I 
shall  never  have  known  what  happiness  is." 

Lill  kissed  her,  though  unable  to  sympathize  much. 
At  Lill's  age  one  feels  so  strong  to  overcome,  so  sure  of 
winning  where  others  have  failed. 

"  You  don't  know  Mr.  Giuliani,"  she  said  with  some 
spirit ;  "  ho  is  a  gentleman  by  birth,  education,  and  pro- 
fession.    He  was  a  soldier  when  quite  a  boy." 

"  An  amateur  soldier,"  said  Mrs.  Townsend,  with  a 
sneer. 

"  He  M'ill  be  a  count  when  his  uncle  dies ;  and  it  is 
only  because  he  loves  his  principles  better  than  his  life, 
that  he  is  poor." 

"  Ah  !  yes — his  principles  ;  I  have  an  idea  of  the  sort 
of  man :  he  would  sacrifice  you  too,  my  dear,  for  his 
principles  !  I  hate  Italians.  My  sister,  my  beautiful 
Caroline,  would  have  her  own  way.  She  married  one  of 
these  Hectors,  and  you  should  see  the  wreck.  She  is 
younger  than  me  by  years  ;  she  looks  like  my  mother ; 
grey-haired,  haggard,  neglected.  What  does  her  fine 
Marco  care  about  her.  He  does  not  drink,  to  be  sure, 
but  he  leaves  her  for  the  pleasure  of  conspiracy.   While 

15 


170  WHO    BREAKS — PATS. 

she  sits  at  bome^trerabliag  for  his  life  and  liberty,  mend- 
ing her  children's  clothes  by  the  light  of  a  miserable 
brass  lamp,  he  is  contributing  his  thousands  of  francs 
for  some  mad  plot  or  other.  I  wish  you  could  see  her, 
or  read  her  letters  ;  you  would  then  learn  what  comes  of 
marrying  a  man  with  principles.  Better  far  marry 
Edward  Tufton,  manage  him  and  live  respectably  iu  your 
own  country,  than  go  roaming  the  world  with  a  man 
whose  greatest  recommendation  is  his  beard ;  he'd  do 
famously  for  a  Chasseur." 

If  Giuliani  truly  was  deficient  in  the  prestige  of  beauty, 
his  physiognomy  was  one  nevertheless  full  of  serenity 
and  nobleness,  significant  that  the  soul  reigned  supreme 
over  the  body. 

"  I  cannot  sit  quietly  by  and  hear  you  talk  so  of  a 
person  I  respect ;  one,  too,  whom  1  have  the  greatest 
reason  to  respect,"  said  Lill,  her  eyes  full  of  angry  tears. 

"It  is  all  fcr  your  good  I  speak,"  re])lied  Mrs.  Town- 
send'  "  He  may  be  a  good  Italian,  a  white  fly  ;  but  you 
don't  love  him  I  tell  you,  or  you  would  behave  very 
differently :  you  like  his  love,  but  not  himself.  Every 
girl  almost  has  a  scrape  of  this  kind,  out  of  which  her 
friends  extricate  her,  and  she's  all  the  better  for  it  after- 
wards :  it  steadies  her  for  life  :  I  wish  to  God  some  ono 
had  helped  me." 

Mrs.  Towusend  was  not  to  be  recognized  in  this  mood 
for  the  little  coquetish  sylph  who  seemed  as  if  she  had 
been  fed  on  sugar  plums  all  her  life.  She  caught  a  view 
of  lierself  in  the  mirror  opposite,  and  was  struck  with 
her  own  ajjpearance. 

"  I  shan't  say  any  more  to  you,  Lill ;  sec  what  a  fright 
talking  sense  to  you  has  made  me.  For  the  last  time, 
take  care  what  you  are  al)out.  Sir  Mark  would  be  glad 
to  see  you  starve,  if  you  married  that  Italian.  He  had 
the  face  of  atiger  all  dinner-lime  yesterday;  and  I'^.dward 
Tufton  frizzled  up  his  fnni.y  little  moustache  just  like  au 
a»  <fry  cat." 


THE    LITTLE    MAN    AND    HIS    LITTLE    SPEECH.  171 


CHAPTER  XXYIir. 

The  Little  Man  and  his  Little  Speech. 

A  GREAT  surprise  awaited  Lill  on  her  return  home. 
Edward  Tufton  asked  her,  with  a  very  serious  look  on 
his  baby  face,  to  go  with  him  into  the  boudoir  :  into  that 
little  room  in  which  were  the  birds,  and  the  flowers,  and 
the  memory  of  the  Italian  lessons. 

"What  can  yon  want  there?  It's  my  sanctum,  and 
not  for  visitors,"  said  Lill,  unwilling  to  have  Mr.  Edward's 
company  there. 

"  Isn't  it,  though  ?"  burst  out  the  angry  youth.  "Didn't 
you  have  that — that  foreign  fellow  there,  day  after  day  ?" 

"  Edward  !  Paris  *air  does  not  agree  with  you,  I  advise 
you  to  go  back  to  England." 

"Paris  air  be — " 

"  I  don't  allow  anybody  but  my  grandfather  to  make 
use  of  ugly  words  in  my  presence ;"  and  the  young  ladj 
turned  disdainfully  from  her  cousin. 

"  Don't  be  angry  with  me,  Lill,"  said  Edward,  coming 
up  to  her  with  a  piteous  face. 

"  I  am  not  inclined  to  be  angry  with  you,  if  you  would 
only  be  good  natured  and  merry  as  you  used  to  be," 
answered  Lill. 

"  But  I  can't ;  how  c-an  1  be  merry  when  I  am  misera- 
ble ?" 

"Miserable  !  then,  you  naughty  boy,  you  have  got  into 
debt." 

"  I  think  I  have  a  right  to  be  considered  something 
more  than  a  boy  at  nearly  twenty-two,"  returned  Edward, 
in  a  highly  offended  tone. 

"  Naughty  man,  if  that  pleases  you  better.  Tell  me 
what  makes  you  miserable." 

"  Can't  you  guess,  Lill  ?"  and  he  came  close  to  where 
she  was  standing,  in  the  embrasure  of  one  of  the  win- 
dows. 

"  Not  a  bit :  how  do  you  think  I  can  guess  men's 
Bcrapes  ?  Good  heavens  1  perhaps  you  are  in  love,  or 
Becretly  married." 

"  It's  not  right  to  laugh  at  a  fellow,  and  trample  on 


172  •WHO   BREAKS — PAYS. 

his  heart  as  yoi;  do.     I  mayn't  be  worth  much,  but  I  do 
care  lor  you,  Lill,  more  tlian  for  anything  in  the  ■world." 

Lill  was  grave  enough  now  ;  she  turned  white  and  red, 
and  red  and  white  twenty  times  in  as  many  seconds  be- 
fore  she  exchiimed,  as  she  did  very  distinctly, — 

"  Oh,  nonsense  !" 

"It's  not  nonsense  at  all,"  resumed  Edward;  "I know 
now  that  I  have  been  in  love  with  you  all  my  life  ;  but  I 
never  found  it  out  till  lust  night  at  Sirs.  Caledon's.  I  felt 
ready  to  kill  that  Bombastes  Furioso,  when  he  was  talk- 
ing so  close  into  your  ear,  and  you  taking  everything  he 
oflerod  to  you,  and  nothing  from  nie  ;  it's  too  bad  of  you, 
Lill :  I  see  by  your  eyes  you  are  laughing  at  me  ;  but 
because  I  can't  make  rhymes  and  talk  humbug  poetry, 
it's  no  reason  why  1  shouldn't  be  able  to  love  you  dearly 
all  the  days  of  my  life." 

"  I  am  not  laughing  nor  inclined  to  laugh  ;  I  am  very, 
very  sorry  you  do  care  so  much  about  me,"  said  Lill,  in 
a  little  sad  tone. 

"  'J'hen  you  have  made  up  your  mind  not  to  have  me," 
exclaimed  Edward,  tears  in  his  blue  eyes;  "you  won't, 
won't  you,  Lill?" 

"  No  ;"  and  she  said  it  decidedly. 

"  It's  all  those  cursed  lessons — " 

Lill  stopped  him. 

"  Edward,  don't  trouble  yourself  to  find  out  any  cause 
for  a  woman's  refusal ;  it  is  not  manly.  I  very  well  see 
what  has  been  the  case:  that  you  have  been  asking 
qiu'stions  you  had  no  business  to  ask  of  Miss  Crum])ton; 
which  is  al)out  as  honorable  as  listening  at  a  door." 

"  V'ery  well,  go  on  hit  ting  as  hard  as  you  please;  but 
I'll  tell  you  what:  you  shall  ??o<  lower  yourself,  and  if 
ever  that  foreign  scoundrel  dares  to  ofl'er  you  his  arm 
again,  or  to  come  near  you,  I'll  knock  him  down." 

"  I  leave  Mr.  (Jiuliani  to  take  care  of  himself,"  said 
Lill,  trying  hard  not  to  show  her  passion,  but  it  got  the 
better  of  lier.  "  As  for  you,  I  thoroughly  despise  you," 
and  witli  her  head  very  ereet  she  Icit  tiie  room. 

!She  went  in  search  of  Miss  Cruinj)ton. 

"  Please  to  tell  me  exactly  what  questions  Edward 
Tnfton  has  had  the  audacity  1o  l)ut  to  you  about  me, 
and  what  you  said  to  him  ?"  began  Lill,  in  a  voice  whose 


THE    LITTLE    MAN    AND    HIS    LITTLE    SPEECH.  173 

vibrations  told  Crummie  that  her  unwise  confidences  had 
brou{>ht  forth  a  crisis. 

"  My  dear,  it  was  something'  Mrs.  Caledon  said  which 
put  Mr.  Edward  on  the  track." 

'''J'rack  !  what  a  nice  word  !  track  of  what?  of  Mr. 
Giuliani  ?" 

Here  the  chaporone's  love  and  fear  made  her  brave 
the  lightning  of  Lill's  eyes,  the  angry  quivering  of  the 
delicate  nostrils.  "  Oh  !  Lill,  my  dear  child,  do  be  ad- 
vised ;  don't  go  any  more  to  Lady  Ponsonhy's." 

"  And  so  you  have  been  giving  him  an  account  of  her 
visitors.  I  am  surrounded  l»y  spies  !"  and  away  rushed 
Lill  to  her  own  room,  locking  and  double-locking  her 
door. 

What  was  she  to  do  ?  How  was  she  to  act  ?  Every 
one  about  her  warning  her  against  Mr.  Giuliani.  Even 
Mrs.  Townsend,  who,  if  any  one  could  be  so,  must  be  un- 
prejudiced. If  she  could  only  undo  what  she  had  done  I 
That  she  might  do  so  she  knew,  for  she  was  sure  that 
her  folly  (she  called  it  folly  unconsciously)  was  unknown 
to  any  one  but  their  two  selves.  She  was  without  feai 
of /ns  claiming  aught  of  her  unforced  promise  to  him— 
unforced,  yes  !  but  his  face,  his  tone  of  voice,  had  over- 
come her.  His  face,  the  face  with  which  he  had  told 
her  he  loved  her ;  his  air,  the  day  her  horse's  hoofs  had 
covered  him  with  dust,  rose  before  her.  She  clasped 
her  hands  before  her  eyes  to  shut  out  the  apparition, 
but  it  pertinaciously  thrust  itself  between  her  eyes  and 
fingers.  She  could  never — no,  never — have  the  courage 
to  play  him  false  ;  to  inflict  misery  on  so  good  a  man, 
so  fond  of  her.  He  had  always  been  so  unhappy,  so  un- 
fortunate ;  she  must  bear  the  consequences  of  her  own 
act.  Lill  said  so  to  herself,  but  her  mind  still  worked 
to  find  some  outlet  of  escape.  No  one  prays  audibly  to 
the  devil  for  help — but  he  is  cognizant  of  the  slightest 
conceived  wish  for  his  aid.  The  serpent  reminded  Lill 
instantly  of  Edward  'I'ufton's  menace  against  Mr. 
Giuliani :  she  told  herself  that  she  was  afraid  to  brave 
that  silly  boy ;  impossible,  therefore,  that  she  could 
venture  that  Saturday  evening  to  Lady  Ponsonby's.  She 
dared  not  risk  a  collision  between  the'two  men. 

Edward  must  go  away  after  what  had  just  occurred, 

15* 


174  WHO  BREAKS PAYS. 

and  then  she  would  be  free  to  act  as  she  pleased.  Lili 
gave  a  great  sigh  of  relief;  she  had  gained  some  breath- 
ing time.  She  had  not  courage  to  write  another  note  of 
apology,  she  had  done  so  for  three  Saturdays  running ; 
it  would  be  almost  insulting  :  she  would  let  it  appear  a. 
chance.  In  the  meanwhile  she  could  consider  whether 
it  would  be  better  or  not  to  avow  her  situation  to  Lady 
Pousonby.  Lill  did  not  sound  the  depths  of  her  own 
sincerity,  or  she  would  have  owned  that  she  feared  too 
much  what  Lady  Ponsonby's  advice  mi<rht  be,  ever  to 
ask  it.  After  having  advanced  rashly  she  had  neither 
the  courage  to  draw  back  penitently  nor  to  choose 
the  martyr's  palm. 


CHAMPS    ELYSEES.  175 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Champs  Elysees. 

Now  let  us  look  into  the  attic  room  of  the  Rue  do 
Berlin.  Giuliani  in  spite  of  himself  had  been  Ifoguiled 
at  Mrs.  Calcdon's  into  renewed  hope  of  Lill's  all'ection, 
by  the  touch  of  sensibility  in  her  manner  towards  him, 
and  most  of  all  by  her  courage  in  accepting  his  arm  in 
presence  of  Sir  Mark.  Giuliani  dreamed  and  hoped 
again.  As  for  her  little  failings  he  loved  her  enough  to 
bear  patiently  with  them.  What  right  had  he  to  expect 
perfection  ?  God  knows  he  was  far  from  it  himself,  and 
how  could  he  be  constantly  weighing  her  faults  and 
virtues  in  a  balance  when  she  gave  up  for  him  what  was 
of  such  value  in  her  estimation  ?  He  would  make  life 
smoother  for  her  than  she  expected.  Once  his  wife,  she 
should  be  won,  and  not  constrained,  to  think  less  of  the 
world ;  at  any  rate,  his  gratitude  should  not  take  the 
shape  of  teasing  her  into  the  adoption  of  his  opinions  on 
that  matter ;  she  had  seen  the  last  of  his  severity.  He 
winced  as  he  recollected  her  deprecating,  subdued  look 
whenever  she  imagined  what  she  was  saying  might  be 
disagreeable  to  him. 

"  I  have  all  along  thought  too  much  of  myself,"  he  went 
on — "  too  much  of  my  own  ideas — been  more  selfish, 
poor  child,  than  she  can  ever  be  ;  requiring  self-sacrifiee 
from  her  and  giving  no  example  of  it  myself.  Always 
'  /  think  so,  /  despise  this  or  that,  therefore  it  is  right 
that  you  should  so  think,  and  so  despise.'  And  so  beau- 
tiful,  so  elegant,  so  accomplished,  yet  she  bore  with  me. 
God  bless  her  !  whatever  happens." 

It  was  in  this  strain  of  feeling  that  Giuliani  went  on 
the  Saturday  to  Lady  Ponsonl)y.  Lill  would  be  there 
he  was  sure  ;  she  had  missed  many  evenings,  but  never 
without  sending  an  apology,  and  this  Saturday  he  knew 
from  Alicia  that  no  note  had  come  from  Miss  Tufton. 
This  evening  he  would  tell  her  that  he  was  sure  of  his 

f)rofessorship  ;  he  had  not  done  so  before,  because  he 
lad  allowed  himself  to  be  angry  with  her  neglect     She 


176  WHO    BREAKS — PATS. 

had  owned  that  she  let  others  guide  her  too  easily  ;  this 
would  not  be  a  great  fault  when  she  was  in  the  guidance 
of  a  loving  friend.  Never  had  Giuliani  been  so  little 
like  himself  as  since  he  had  met  Lill  the  evening  before. 
The  vexatious  restraint  of  the  past  week,  his  doubts  of 
her  sincerity  removed,  his  spirits  bounded  higher  than 
they  h*d  ever  done.  Yes,  he  hoped,  besides,  that  even- 
ing to  explain  his  situation  to  his  good  friends,  the 
Ponsonbys  ;  he  longed  for  their  sympathy. 

"  AVhat  good  news  have  you  to  give  us  ?"  asked 
Madllc.  Arsenief  as  he  passed  her. 

"  1  have  heard  none,"  said  he,  unconscious  of  the  ex- 
pectant happiness  radiating  from  his  whole  face. 

It  was  nine  o'clock  and  Miss  Tufton  was  not  come, 
half-pasi  nine,  then  ten  ;  Alicia's  eyes  turned  as  anxiously 
as  Giuliiini's  to  the  clock  on  the  mantlepiece  ;  her  face 
changed  as  his  did.  His  old  indignation  was  rising  again  : 
if  Miss  'I'lifton  did  not  know  her  own  mind,  he  knew  his. 
He  would  not  be  played  with.  He  left  the  salon.  Alicia 
followed  him  into  the  ant6-room  and  laid  her  hand  on 
his  arm. 

"  Are  you  ill  ?  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?"  she  asked, 
an.xiously. 

He  sliircd  at  her  for  a  minute.  "  Yes,  my  head  aches  ; 
I  must  have  air." 

"yhall  wo  see  you  again  this  evening?"  She  wished 
to  detain  him  to  say  something  soothing,  and  she  could 
only  uttiT  cdniinonplaces. 

"  No,  the  noise  and  the  lights  ;  I  must  be  alone,  if  you 
please." 

Alicia  had  grown  timid  and  distant  with  (iiuliani,  how 
timid  and  distant  she  was  nut  conscious  of  lill  now  ;  she 
felt  the  impatient  movement  of  his  arm  under  her  de- 
taining hand,  and  lifted  it  (piickly. 

"  tjiood-niglit,"  and  lie  almost  sprang  away.  He  hur- 
ried on,  giving  iiinisclf  no  exphiiiati<in  of  wliat  he  was 
intending  to  do,  liiirried  into  tlie  C'1i:um])s  Klysf-cs  with- 
out lessening  iiis  aindess  s|)eed.  until  he  reached  tho 
house  in  which  Sir  Mark  Tufton  had  a])artnients.  A  few 
carriages  were  stationed  near  tlie  <loor  ;  loud  strains  of 
music  iilicd  tlu!  air — dance  nnisic,  so  inspiriting  tliat 
Borne  workinggirls  passing  by  with  their  lover  workuieu, 


CHAMPS    ELYSEE9.  177 

were  swinging  round  in  the  joyous  pcJka;  astonishing 
how  well  and  graeelully  these 'conimou  French  peoplo 
moved.  A  little  knot  of  elders,  furnished  by  the  different 
porters'  rooms,  and  by  the  caf^s,  were  nodding  theii 
heads  approvingly  in  time  to  the  measure.  'J'lie  branches 
of  the  newly  leafed  trees,  illumined  by  the  lamps  midway 
between  their  trunks,  had  a  pale  splendour  like  what 
we  fancy  in  fairy  grottoes.  The  dancers,  their  poor  dress 
coloured  by  the  fantastic  light,  the  gay  sound,  made  a 
good  picture  of  Arcadia,  for  lookers-on  with  hearts  at 
rest  enough  to  let  their  fancy  play.  To  Giuliani's  ear 
the  spirited  music  was  like  the  braying  of  discordant 
trumpets,  the  merriment  was  bitterness,  his  eyes  were 
fixed  on  the  open  windows  of  the  first  floor.  The  salon 
was  light  as  day ;  he  drew  back  to  the  edge  of  the  pave- 
ment, so  as  to  have  a  good  view  of  the  interior.  Couples 
were  whirling  there  also ;  a  figure  in  flowing  white  mus- 
lin was  clasped  close  by  another  in  black  broad  cloth, 
long  fair  curls  were  wafted  by  the  quick  movement  to 
mingle  with  protuberant  whiskers.  "Love,  exclusive, 
deep-rooted  love,"  muttered  the  unhappy  gazer.  "Amuse- 
ment, that's  the  real  business  of  life — perhaps  she's 
right." 


178  WHO    BREAKS — PAYS. 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

What  Happened  dni-ing  Forty-eight  Hours. 

On  the  Sunday  morning  after  the  Saturday  evening's 
dance  improvised  \y  Mrs.  Townsend,  which  had  sent 
Giuliani  home  frantic  with  angry  disappointment,  and 
almost  resolved  never  again  to  seek  Lill,  the  restless 
Honora  made  her  appearance  just  as  Miss  Crumpton 
and  Lill  were  sallying  forth  to  the  Chapel  Marbceuf. 

"You  must  both  come  with  me  to  the  Rue  Taitbout. 
Mons.  Monod  is  going  to  preach  there,  and  every  one  is 
going." 

Now  the  aristocracy  of  England  and  the  Church  of 
England  were  Miss  Crumpton's  strong  points.  Her  faith 
in  the  infallibility  and  superiority  of  both  was  beyond 
danger.  Nevertheless,  she  dreaded  to  enter  even  a 
French  Protestant  chapel  as  much  as  she  despised  con- 
tinental nobility.  I^ill  had  once  coaxed  her  into  the 
Madeleine,  but  as  soon  as  the  little  bell  previous  to  the 
sacrifice  of  the  mass  was  rung,  she  had  bounced  up  from 
her  seat,  exclaiming,  "  They  are  going  to  do  it  now," 
and  had,  to  the  great  scandal  of  the  congregation,  forced 
her  way  out,  dragging  Lill  after  her. 

Miss  Crum])ti)U  attempted  no  more  interference  with 
Mrs.  Townsend  than  she  would  have  done  with  Sir  Mark 
himself;  so  she  ({uietly,  though  with  a  sore  conscience, 
left  the  field  to  the  enemy,  and  went  away  by  herself  to 
the  Chapel  iMarbanif. 

Lill  took  her  seat  by  Mrs.  Townsend  in  the  hackney 
coach  that  lady  had  come  in  ;  Sir  Mark's  observance  of 
the  Sabbath  consisting  in  forbidding  his  carriage  and 
horses  to  be  used  for  cliurch-going. 

"  There's  not  much  crowd,"  observed  Mrs.  Townsend, 
as  they  went  up  the  stairs  to  the  room  where  the  service 
was  to  be  performed.  "More  like  a  concert-room  than 
a  church,"  she  whispered,  as  they  took  their  chairs. 
"That  bit  of  blue  above  the  pulpit,  I  .supi)ose,  is  for  the 
preaelier  to  address  as  heaven  ;"  then  luuKing  round  aa 
members  of  the  congregation  came  dropping  in,    "Re- 


FORTY-EIGHT    HOURS.  179 

ligion  is  not  a  great  beautifier  ;  how  ugly  every  one  is  1 
what  noses  !" 

"  Hush,  pray !"  said  Lill,  who  did  not  at  all  share  in 
her  friend's  want  of  veneration. 

"  Oh  !  hero  conies  the  avant-courier,"  again  exclaimed 
ITonora;  "  what  a  girlish  face  he  has;  doesn't  he  look 
like  a  greengrocer  dressed  up  ?  he  would  make  a  pretty 
woman  though." 

This  was  d  propos  of  a  very  young  man  who  had  en- 
tered the  pulpit. 

"  Good  heavens !  he  is  not  Mons.  Monod,  surely,"  cried 
Mrs.  Townsend,  as  the  youth  gave  out  a  psalm. 

A  very  austere  lady  who  was  seated  next  to  the  Eng- 
lish  lady  hero  handed  her  a  psalm-book,  saying, — 

^^  Non,  ce  n'ed  pas  Mons.  Monod  ;  c'est  monfils." 

Mrs.  Townsend,  with  a  grimace,  accepted  the  book  ; 
but  proposed  to  Lill  that  they  should  make  their  escape, 
liill  would  not  listen  to  her,  nor  even  look  at  her. 

Mrs.  Townsend  put  on  a  resigned  air,  saying, — 

"  Fancy  a  brat  like  that  setting  up  to  teach." 

When  the  sermon-book  was  produced,  she  arranged 
her  bracelets,  unbuttoned  and  rebuttoned  her  gloves, 
turned  over  the  psalms,  and  did  all  she  could  to  forget 
that  preaching  was  going  on.  At  last,  however,  from 
want  of  anything  else  to  do,  she  looked  at  the  young 
preacher.  His  blue  eyes  were  sparkling;  on  the  thin 
cheeks,  pale  as  marble  when  he  had  begun,  now  burned 
the  bright  red  of  earnest  enthusiasm.  The  tender nesa 
of  the  woman  was  stirred  by  the  terrible  delicacy  of  his 
appearance.  Poor  fellow  !  speaking  must  be  death  for 
him.  His  voice  was  singularly  clear  and  piercing ;  he 
was  saying,  as  his  words  caught  her  attention, — 

"  With  the  first  fear  of  sin  comes  the  first  dawn  of  the 
joy  of  its  pardon.  Fear  of  God,  my  dear  brethren,  is 
not  a  terror  of  danger.  There  are  two  kinds  of  fear- 
fear  of  danger  to  ourselves  personally,  and  fear  of  offend- 
ing God,  because  of  the  offence  to  His  love.  Our  fear 
of  giving  off'ence  to  one  we  love  is  not  the  fear  of  risk  to 
ourselves,  is  it?  My  brethren,  I  appeal  to  your  hearts 
— to  my  own — and  the  answer  is,  no  !  it  is  fear  of  the 
pain  we  necessarily  inflict  by  our  offence.  Many  a  timid 
soul  exclaims,   '  There  is  pardon ;   but  not  for  those  ia 


180  VHO    BREAKS PAYS. 

certain  cases.  I  kiiew  the  rifrht,  I  erred,  then  returned 
to  the  riffht,  and  atrahi  forsook  it.'  " 

"  That's  a  hit  at  me,"  here  muttered  Mrs.  Townsend. 

"  Dear  brothers  and  sisters,  take  courage  ;  remember 
David, — is  he  not  called  the  man  after  God's  heart, 
though  sinning,  doubtless,  more  deeply  than  the  timid 
soul  I  may  now  be  addressing  ?  With  the  tirst  fear  of 
his  sin  came  to  him  the  dawn  of  the  joy  of  its  pardon. 
I  entreat  you  all  hold  this  in  mind.  If  God  were  ex- 
treme to  mark  the  iniquities  of  the  best  of  us.  who  do 
you  imagine  could  stand  before  Him  ?  When  we  look 
back  at  the  way  we  have  left  behind,  we  see  it  crossed 
by  our  culpabilities,  our  repentances,  our  backslidings, 
each  of  them  standing  up  clearly  along  the  path  we  have 
trod  ;  we  shrink — do  we  not  ? — i'rom  the  road  that  still 
remains  for  us  to  tread,  we  fear  for  the  future.  liCt  us 
suppose  that  the  most  toilsome,  suffering  journey  lay  be- 
fore us,  at  tlie  end  of  which  would  be  some  once  dear 
friend  whom  we  had  betrayed  and  alienated,  and  that 
we  might  make  sure  of  receiving  his  forgiveness  and  love 
again,  if  we  would  venture  on  that  terrible  journey  to 
obtain  them.  Which  of  us  would  hesitate  to  undertake 
80  much  for  a  dear  earthly  fri(uid  ?  Which  of  us,  whose 
heart  drops  blood  for  the  offences  given  to  those  who 
are  gone  before  us  to  the  silent  land,  would  draw  back 
from  any  sacrifice,  any  trial,  any  restraint,  to  have  the 
Sling  of  remorse  drawn  from  his  heart?  Would  we  not 
rouse  ourselves  from  all  languor  of  hopelessness,  and, 
faint,  worn,  and  sobbing,  set  out  bravely  on  our  hard, 
forlorn  way?  Do  1  blame  you  because  an  earthly  love 
would  excite  you  thus?  No;  God  himself  has  shown 
us  that  human  affection  teaclies  us  heavenly  affection. 
'Die  Magdalene's  human  love  for  her  Saviour  and  par- 
doner  led  her  to  heavenly  love.  Up,  then,  poor  prosti-ate 
fliiul.  ])reparc  for  the  steep  rough  road;  reconciliation, 
pardon,  await  you  in  God's  bosom.  Crossed,  perplexed, 
disa])pointed  soul,  there  you  will  read  aright  the  enigma 
of  your  destiny  here — of  that  anguish  wliich  lias  cruci- 
fied your  heart.  Be  sure,  O  my  dear  brethren  !  be  sure, 
as  I  am,  that,  once  you  have  climbed  that  height,  all  the 
consolation,  all  the  joy  you  have  sought  and  missed  so 
long,  you  will  find  there." 


FORTY-EIGHT   HOURS.  181 

That  afternoon  Mrs.  Townsend  did  not  call  to  take 
Lill  a  drive  in  the  Bois  do  Boulogne,  as  she  had  done 
every  Sunday  before ;  nor  did  Monday  morning  bring 
any  note  of  a  programme  of  busy  idleness  for  the  day. 

'•  What's  the  matter  with  you  and  Mrs.  Townsend  ?" 
inquired  Sir  Mark  of  Lill,  with  grim  suspicion. 

"  Nothing."  said  Lill. 

"  What  a  true  woman's  answer  !  a  world  of  subterfuge 
hid  in  a  word!"  he  went  on.  "I  tell  you  I  will  know. 
She  was  denied  to  me  yesterday  afternoon,  and  in  the 
evening  also." 

"  I  am  not  Mrs.  Townsend's  keeper,"  said  Lill ;  "  pro- 
bably she  was  at  church." 

Sir  Mark  gaped  at  his  granddaughter  :  "  What  had 
she  to  do  there  ?" 

"Pray,"  said  Lill,  "as  it  would  be  well  for  us  all  to 
do" 

"A  new  freak,"  exclaimed  he.  "  I  like  your  fine  lady'a 
religion,  dancing  in  Sunday  morning,  and  then  to  church 
for  absolution." 

"They  stopped  dancing  last  night,  Sir  Mark,"  said 
Miss  Orumpton,  "  before  midnight  struck,  I  assure  you." 

"  I  am  delighted  to  hear  it,  madam,"  returned  he, 
with  a  mocking  bow.  "And  Edward  Tufton  ;  what  the 
deuce  has  come  to  him,  that  he  says  he  must  be  off  ^d 
England  to-day  ?" 

Sir  Mark  stopped  his  walk  up  and  down  the  room,  and 
stared  at  Lill. 

She  said  :  "  I  suppose  we  are  all  going  away  soon  ?" 

Her  heart  beat  fast  while  waiting  for  the  answer. 

"  I  thought  you  wanted  to  stay  in  Paris,  Miss  Tuf- 
ton." 

"  I  wanted  !"  repeated  Lill,  with  some  trepidation. 

"/wanted,"  mimicked  Sir  i\Lark.  "I  wish  to  God 
the  wind  would  shift  as  well  as  your  mind  !" 

"  Oh,  dear  me.  Sir  Mark,  I  hope  you  don't  feel  your 
neuralgia,"  put  in  Miss  Crumpton. 

"Yes,  madam.  T  do  feel  my  foot  —  T  always  do  feel  l\ 
in  this  sort  of  weather.  I  am  not  harder  than  wood, 
and  I  believe  I  am  right  in  saying  that  it's  the  weather 
that  made  that  table  crack  just  now." 

Lill  rejoiced  in  this  change  of  the  conversation,  though 

16 


182  WHO    BPEAKS — PATS. 

she  felt  sure  Edward  had  dropped  some  deleterious  oints 
in  Sir  Mark's  ear. 

"  Go  and  see  after  Mrs.  Townsend,  Miss  Tufton,"  said 
Sir  Mark  with  a  grimace  of  pain.  "  Take  the  carriage, 
for  I  want  Miss  Crumpton  to  rub  ray  foot,  and  mind  you 
come  back  straight  without  going  elsewhere." 

Mrs.  Towuseud  was  not  at  home.  Madlle.  Athenais 
said  madarae  had  gone  out,  she  thought  by  appointment. 
Lill  was  sorry.  She  had  s^rown  accustomed  to  Honora's 
companionship ;  it  was  a  useful  excuse,  and  helped  to 
prevent  her  from  thinking.  Lill  was  far  from  imagin- 
ing that  the  Saturday  evening's  polka  and  fiie  Sunday 
morning's  church  were  fixing  her  fate  for  her. 

Sir  Mark  kept  his  whole  household  that  day  in  a  fer- 
ment. It  was  on  these  occasions  that  Miss  Crumpton 
honourably  emerged  from  obscurity,  taking  the  foremost 
place  of  fatigue  aud  danger,  and  astonishing  the  agitated 
French  domestics,  by  her  obstinate  complacency  under 
fire. 

To  be  sure,  while  she  only  rubbed  and  moaned,  he 
only  snarled  and  growled;  but  when  she  ventured  oa 
any  initiative,  his  roar  was  really  terrific.  It  was  droll 
to  hear  lier  answer  his  savage  manifestations  by,  "  Poor 
Sir  Mark  !  is  the  pain  so  bad  ?" 

In  the  evening  Mrs.  Townsend  made  her  ap]>earance. 
Sir  Mark  sent  to  beg  her  to  come  into  his  private  room. 
He  hid  his  wrapped-up  foot  under  a  fold  of  his  dressing- 
gown,  receiving  her  with  a  cheerfulness  that  made  Mi^s 
Crumpton,  with  ineffable  naivete,  exclaim, — 

"  Well.  Sir  Mark  !  you  are  a  wonderful  man  for  hiding 
pain  !  Mrs.  Townsend,  you  have  no  idea  how  dreadful 
his  poor  foot  has  been." 

Sir  .Mark's  upper  lip  rose,  showing  his  teeth;  he  was 
as  like  a  vicious  terricu"  as  possil)le. 

"  What's  conxe  lo  you  ?"  he  said,  wlien  Mrs.  Townsend 
sat  down  (piielly,  without  the  ie.ist  aitpmacii  to  any  joke 
"You  liavo  made  yourself  look  like  a  tjuakeress." 

"Sir  Mark,  I  have  hail  other  things  to  think  of  fo-day 
than  dress." 

"'IMh'  deuce  you  have  !   money  to  pay  for  it.  ])crhiips?" 

A  faint  pink  coloured  .Mrs.  Townsi'iul's  pale  checks; 
■he  |)ut  a  visil)ie  conHraiiit  on  herself  as  she  ausworod,— 


FORTT-EIGHT   neURS.  183 

"  What  would  have  been  the  consequence,  Sir  Mark, 
if  I  had  married  you  three  months  ago  when  you  were  so 
urgent  ?" 

"I  should  have  been  minus  some  200^.,'"  returned  he, 
unconsciously  unbuttoning  his  coat. 

Mrs.  Towusend's  little  puritanical  air  gave  way  under 
this  provocation;  she  burst  into  one  of  her  merriest 
laughs. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,  I  am  not  going  to  borrow  even  the 
fourth  of  the  sum  you  would  have  had  to  pay  for  Lady 
Tufton ;  my  question  was  meant  as  a  consolation.  You 
would  rather  part  with  me  than  your  money,  wouldn't 
you,  Sir  Mark  ?"'  she  added  in  her  coaxing  way. 

"  By  Jove  1"  he  said,  excitedly,  "  you  are  a  perfect 
Cleopatra." 

"I  shan't  add  Antony  to  your  name,"  quoth  she, 
rising :  "  you  wouldn't  lose  the  world  for  a  woman,  I  am 

sure  " 

"  i  don't  know  what  you  might  not  make  me  do,  if 
you  chose,"  said  Sir  Mark,  holding  out  his  hand  towards 

licr 

"You  are  very  harsh  to  Lill,"  said  Mrs.  Townsend. 

"  She  is  so  defiant,  yet  she  is  not  aboveboard  as  you 
are ;  your  truth  is  what  I  like  in  you." 

"Thanks— 1  thought  you  liked  everything  about  me. 

"And  so  I  do  — 1  do,"  said  the  delighted  old  man, 
trying  to  take  her  hand. 

"  Promise  that  you'll  grant  my  request,  and  1 11  let 
you  kiss  my  bluest  vein.  Cleopatra  said  that;  you 
know  my  authority  —  Shakspeare."  _ 

"  Well,  what  is  it?"  asked  Sir  Mark,  rather  peevishly, 

"Afraid  of  his  purse,"  pretended  to  whisper  Mrs. 
Townsend  to  Miss  Crumpton;  then  to  Sir  Mark:  "Re- 
peat after  me  these  words :  'I  promise  faithfully  upon 
my  solemn  word  of  honour  to  behave  with  decent  temper 
to  my  preltv  granddaughter  in  all  cases,  and  never  io  turn 
her  out  of  doors  without  a  dowry,  whether  I,  Sir  Mark, 
marry  witht)ut  her  consent,  or  she  marries  without  mine, 
in  faith  of  which  I  kiss  the  Bible  and  Mrs.  Towusend's 
hands ;'  I  will  have  it  so,"  she  continued,  as  she  drew 
back  from  the  small  Bible  she  suddenly  presented  to 
him,  adding, — 


184 


WHO    BREAKS — PATS. 


"  Kiss  both  or  none." 

Sir  Mark  yielded,  glueing  his  withered  lips  to  tha 
delicate  hand. 

"There,  that  will  do,"  she  said,  drawing  it  back. 
"You  are  a  witness.  Miss  Crumi^ton ;  now  good-bye, 
and  good  luck  to  you  all." 

"  What  are  you  going  away  so  soon  for  ?"  asked  Sir 
Mark  ;  "  can't  you  stay  ?  You  magnetize  my  pain,  you 
little  enchantress." 

"Sorry  I  can't  oblige  you,"  she  said,  nonchalantly; 
"  duty  calls  me  away." 

"  Nonsense  !  come,  ask  me  for  something  more  — 
something  for  yourself." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  Pleasant  dreams,  old  friend  —  dreams  of  the  sums 
you  have  saved  by  not  having  me  for  a  wife." 

"  You  shall  have  the  horses  you  set  your  heart  upon," 
he  began  ;  he  stopped,  for  she  was  gone. 

Sir  Mark  mused  a  little,  then  he  bid  Miss  Crurapton 
see  if  Mrs.  Townsend  was  with  Miss  Tufton. 

"  Tell  her  I  want  to  say  only  two  words  to  her.  I 
must  see  her  again,  do  you  hear  ?" 

Mrs.  Townsend  had  left  the  house. 

"  Send  after  her,"  said  Sir  Mark,  angrily.  "  Go  your- 
self, Miss  Crumpton  " 

In  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  the  chaperone  returned. 
Mrs.  Townsend  w^as  not  at  home.  The  annoyance  helped 
to  bring  back  a  paroxysm  of  pain.  Half  a  dozen  times 
messages  were  sent  to  Rue  de  Cirque— always  the  same 
reply:  Mrs.  Townsend  was  not  at  home.  Sir  Mark 
would  not  allow  Edward  Tufton  to  leave  for  England. 
No  one  in  Sir  Mark's  house  had  much  rest  that  nisrht. 


FOREVER — NEVER.  185 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Forever — Never. 


Before  half-past  nine  o'clock  the  next  morning  Lill 
went  with  Ruth  to  the  Rue  de  Cirque.  No  Mrs.  'lowa- 
eend ;  but  a  letter  for  Sir  Mark,  which  Madlle.  Athenaia 
delivered  with  great  volubility,  praising  her.self  for  having 
followed  Mrs.  Townsend's  instructions  faithfully,  "  Ma- 
dame had  desired  that  no  one  should  know  of  her  de- 
parture till  the  next  day,  and  Madlle.  Athenais  has  been 
hard-hearted  to  every  anxious  inquiry.  Madame  had 
left  plenty  of  money  for  her  apartment  and  for  Madlle. 
Athenais,  who  would  seize  the  occasion  to  take  a  trip 
to  see  her  parents  at  Orleans." 

"Is  Mrs.  Townsend  gone  to  England?"  asked  Lill, 
•who  had  at  first  been  struck  dumb  with  astonishment. 

"  I  could  not  say,  mademoiselle ;  madauie  gave  me  no 
hint." 

"  Her  luggage — surely  you  saw  the  directions  ?" 

"  Ha  !  that  makes  me  think,"  said  iha/emme  de  chain- 
bre ;  "  madarae  has  written  mademoiselle's  name  on 
various  small  articles." 

Madlle.  Athenais  est  de  toute  fidilit4. 

Mademoiselle  Tufton  would  be  so  good  as  to  give  her 
an  acknowledgment  that  she  had  received  these  articles. 
The  letter  to  Sir  Mark  would,  without  any  doubt,  explain 
Madame  Townsend's  movements ;  but  if  not,  Madlle. 
Athenais  would  be  tempted  to  think  that  Madame  Town- 
send  was  still  in  Paris;  she  took  away  her  trunks  in 
■fiaae  ;  but  Madlle.  Athenais  had  only  heard  madame 
tell  the  cocker  to  drive  to  the  Arc  de  I'Etoile  ;  but  that, 
as  Madlle.  Tufton  could  understand,  was  merely  throw- 
ing dust  into  the  listener's  eyes. 

At  this  stage  of  the  conversation  madame  la  propri^- 
taire  came  down  in  her  petticoat  and  camisole,  her  hair 
not  yet  dressed,  looking  ten  years  older  in  her  morning 
than  she  did  in  her  evening  costume. 

"  Cette  chfere  dame !  ah  !  j'ai  grande  peur,"  and  here 
came  a  significant  tap  on  the  proprietaire's  forehead 

16* 


186  WHO    BREAKS — PAYS. 

"  Quelque  coup  de  tgte,  soyez  sure,  mademoiselle  ;  et  la 
voiture  et  les  jolis  ponies.     Qu'est-ce  qu'on  en  fera?" 

Miss  Tufton  supposed  there  were  directions  in  tlie 
letter  she  held  in  her  hand,  addressed  to  Sir  Mark  ;  "  she 
would  see  madame  la  propri^taire  again  after  having 
spoken  to  Sir  Mark." 

The  letter  consisted  of  half  a  dozen  lines, — 

"  Dear  Sir  Mark, 

"  It  will  be  of  no  use  your  trying  to  find  me,  as  I  don't 
intend  to  marry  you.  1  make  you  a  present  of  my  car- 
riage and  ponies,  and  I  give  Lill  Tufton  all  the  baubles 
you  lavished  on  me.  I  am  going  where  the  adorning  is 
not  to  be  that  of  plaiting  the  hair  and  of  wearing  of  gold. 
Let  Lill  have  the  trinkets  in  peace.  Don't  forget  your 
promise  as  to  her.  Take  example  by  me,  and  think  of 
the  next  world  before  it  is  too  late. 

"  HONORA   TOWNSEND." 

Sir  Mark's  face,  as  he  read  it,  took  the  ashy  hue  it 
had  had  on  his  arrival  from  EngUind  with  Mrs.  Town- 
Bend.  Lill  thought,  but  she  might  be  mistaken,  that 
there  was  a  tear  in  each  of  Sir  Mark's  eyes  as  he  threw 
down  the  letter  on  the  table. 

"  May  I  read  it.  Sir  ISlark !"  asked  Lill. 

"  No ;"  and  he  put  it  into  his  pocket. 

He  would  wish  Lill  and  every  one  around  him  to  be- 
lieve that  there  was  still  some  link  between  him  and 
Mrs.  Townsend — that  all  was  not  broken  off. 

"We  must  start  for  England  directly,  Miss  Tufton. 
Can  you  be  ready  this  afternoon  ?" 

"  Gracious  me  !"  ejaculated  Miss  Crumpton  ;  "  and 
your  pain.  Sir  Mark." 

"  I  am  in  no  pain,  Miss  Crumpton." 

"  Hut  Sir  Mark,  it's  a  physical  impossibility  to  be 
ready  to-day — not  if  I  were  to  be  on  my  knees  before 
trunks  from  this  time  till  sunset." 

"  No  later  than  the  midday  train  to-morrow."  said  Sir 
Mark,  "  if  you  have  to  leave  all  your  iVippiTv  behind. 
Do  you  hear,  Miss  Tufton?  to-morrow  at  midday — my 
business  won't  wait." 

Sir  Mark  said  his  business  wouldn't  wait  to  every  in- 
dividual he  came  across.    His  anxiety  to  hide  the  wound 


FOREVER — NEVER.  187 

he  had  received  gave  him  courage  to  control  all  out- 
break of  passion. 

"  I  have  some  visits  I  ought  to  pay  before  going 
away,"  said  Lill. 

"  Do  what  you  like ;  but  remember,  ready  or  not,  I  go 
to-morrow." 

Lill  had  heard  and  understood  all  her  grandfather 
was  gaying,  but  her  brain  was  busy  with  her  own  situa- 
tion. She  must  see  Giuliani;  she  must  explain  the 
present  crisis  to  him.  How  was  she  to  manage  ?  No 
chance  of  finding  him  at  his  own  lodgings  in  the  fore- 
noon, and  even  if  he  were  at  home,  what  would  he  tliink 
of  her  going  to  him  alone  ?  And  dared  she  ask  him  to 
come  and  see  her  ?  Suppose  Sir  Mark  should  find  him, 
or  even  Edward  Tufton  ?  well,  then  she  would  tell  the 
truth  and  take  the  consequences.  First  of  all,  however, 
she  would  see  Lady  Ponsonby  :  she  was  determined  now 
to  ask  that  dear  old  lady  to  advise  and  guide  her ;  how 
she  wished  she  had  done  so  sooner;  but  who  could  ever 
have  dreamed  of  such  a  catastroi)he.  Where  could  Mrs. 
Townsend  be?  Was  she  in  England?  Did  Sir  Mark 
know  ?  Lill  doubted  it,  but  she  had  no  time  for  conjec- 
tures as  to  any  one's  affairs  but  her  own. 

She  drove  to  Mrs.  Caledon's  and  paid  a  hasty  visit 
there,  long  enough,  however,  to  hear  tliat  Giuliani  had 
been  named  to  a  professorship  som  '.vh  tp  in  the  south 
of  France ;  Mrs.  Calcdon  could  not  rem  'inl)er  the  town. 

In  a  fever  of  excitement  Lill  then  went  to  Lady  Pon- 
sonby's.  The  concierge  told  her  that  Miledi  was  out  of 
Paris;  she  was  gone  to  Marseilles  to  meet  her  son  just 
returned  from  the  Indies.  Lill's  heart  sank — fate  was 
against  her.  "  Go  to  the  Rue  de  Berlin,"  she  said,  brave 
from  excess  of  fear. 

"  Mr.  Giuliani  was  not  at  home."  She  wrote  on  one 
of  her  visiting  cards  that  she  begged  him  to  call  next 
morning  on  her  as  early  as  eight,  before  eight  if  he  could, 
she  was  setting  off  for  England  the  next  day. 

Sir  Mark  went  through  all  the  business  preparations 
consequent  on  this  rapid  move  with  peculiar  quiet.  He 
did  not  swear  once,  that  either  Lill  or  Miss  Crumpton 
heard.  They  saw  little  of  him,  however,  Edward  Tuftoo 
being  there  to  execute  his  orders. 


188  WHO   BREAKS — PAYS. 

Lill  sat  in  a  sort  of  forlora  way,  watching  Ruth  pack 
her  trunks.  She  had  not  energy  enough  even  to  open 
the  boxes  brought  to  her  by  Madlle.  Athenais. 

When  bedtime  came,  she  called  Miss  Crumptoa  in  her 
room. 

Crummie,  you  must  help  me  this  once ;  I  will  never 
ask  you  again  to  do  anything  of  the  kind  :  this  once  you 
must ;  if  you  don't  I  am  so  thoroughly  miserable  I  shall 
commit  some  folly  ;  promise  me,  Crummie." 

"  Ah  !  well,  my  dear,  if  it  must  be  so." 

"  I  must  see  Mr.  Giuliani  before  I  go ;  I  have  asked 
him  to  come  to-morrow  morning  at  eight.  I  am  sure 
he'll  come.  Crummie,  you  must  stay  in  the  drawing-room, 
while  I  speak  to  him  in  the  little  room.  If  you  hear  any 
one  coming,  call  to  us ;  will  you,  Crummie  ?  I  must  and 
will  see  him,  whether  you  agree  or  not.  You  may  bring 
a  downright  misfortune  on  me  if  you  won't  help  me." 

Crummie,  of  course,  promised. 

Lill  gave  Ruth  the  strictest  orders  to  call  her  at  six ; 
and  left  her  blinds  open  that  the  light  might  rouse  her. 
There  seemed  at  first  every  chance  of  her  being  already 
awake  at  six  o'cluck,  for  she  heard  all  the  small  hours 
of  the  night  strike  and  was  awake  at  five,  but  she  fell 
into  a  heavy  feverish  slumber  just  before  six.  She 
started  up,  however,  at  Ruth's  summons,  her  face  like 
wax,  except  for  the  dark  purple  circle  round  her  eyes. 

"  Ruth,"  she  said,  "  I  expect  Mr.  Ciuiiani  to  call  this 
morning — my  Italian  master,  you  reniember."  Lill  was 
trying  to  impose  upon  her  maid.  "Show  him  into  the 
back  drawing-room.  I  want  you  to  watch  for  him.  tliat 
there  may  be  no  mistake  about  his  coming  for  Sir  Mark 
or  Mr.  Tuflon.     I  don't  want  to  disturb  Sir  Mark." 

Lill  fetched  Miss  Crunipton  downstairs;  not  a  word 

f)assed  between  them.  As  eight  o'clock  struck,  Lill 
leard  the  door  of  the  apartment  open  quietly.  Ruth 
understood  her  business.  At  that  instant,  lii'li  wished 
slie  lia<l  not  asked  >rr.  (iin]i;ini  to  come.  Wliat  shonM 
she  say  to  him?  She  ran  into  the  little  room  with  the 
feeling  of  one  seeking  escape  from  an  avenger.  She 
knew  he  wa.s  in  the  room  with  hfr,  but  slie  couKl  not 
look  u|)  or  speak. 

Ue  spoke  to  her  in  his  usual  voice  ;  she  did  not  hear 


FOREVER — NEVER.  189 

the  words,  but  started,  saying,  "  Hush !  don't  speak  so 
loud." 

"  Why  are  you  so  agitated,  Miss  Tufton  ?  Of  what  are 
you  alViiid  ?" 

Then  she  raised  her  eyes  to  his  face.  He  was  per- 
fectly  composed ;  more,  he  had  a  sort  of  smile  on  hia 
lips.  Something  in  his  look  and  bearing  stung  her  to 
the  quick. 

"  Won't  you  sit  down  ?"  she  said  mechanically. 

"  Thank  you,  no  ;  you  must  have  a  great  deal  to 
arrange  for  your  departure ;  very  unexpected,  I  believe." 

"  Quite,"  she  answered.  "  Sir  Mark  only  said  we  were 
to  go  yesterday  morning.  I  let  you  know  as  soon 
almost  as  I  knew  myself." 

He  did  not  reply. 

"  Mrs.  Townsend  is  the  cause  of  this  move,"  she  went 
on ;  "I  did  mean — I  did  not  mean." 

Why  would  he  not  speak  ?  She  was  rufiBed ;  it  was 
not  fair  of  him  ;  he  ought  to  make  allowances  for  her, 
so  she  took  the  offensive. 

"  Mrs.  Caledon  told  me  yesterday  you  were  going  to 
leave  Paris.     Did  you  mean  to  go  without  telling  me  ?" 

"  Probably." 

"  You  are  very  unkind,  Mr.  Giuliani.  I  don't  think  I 
deserve  that." 

"  Oh  !  Miss  Tufton." 

"  Why  do  you  call  me  Miss  Tufton  ?"  she  flashed  out. 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  call  you  Perla  ?"  and  he  half 
smiled. 

It  was  a  curious  battle,  in  which  Lill  would  be  sure 
to  wound  herself  more  deeply. 

"  You  play  with  my  feelings ;  you  make  me  angry  on 
purpose." 

"God  forbid!  I  wish,  on  the  contrary,  to  make  you 
understand  yourself." 

"  My  dear,"  here  called  in  Miss  Crumpton.  Ruth  had 
put  her  head  anxiously  into  the  drawing-room. 

"  Miss  Crumpton  warns  you— us,"  said  Giuliani, 
*'  that  it  is  useless  to  prolong  this  scene.  Miss  Tufton, 
farewell !  I  will  remember  you  in  my  prayers  always,  aa 
Perla."  He  clasped  her  hand  for  an  instant,  and  wag 
hastening  from  the  room,  but  she  ran  after  him. 


190  WHO    BREAKS — PAYS. 

Mr.  Giuliani,  Mr.  Giuliani,  oh  !  don't  go  so  ;  will  yon 
write  to  me  ?" 

"  I  will  answer  any  letter  you  address  to  me." 

"  You  are  not  angry  with  lue,"  and  her  pale  lips 
worked  with  the  effort  not  to  cry. 

"  No,  no,  not  angry,"  be  said,  much  as  he  might  have 
spoken  to  a  child.  "  You  could  not  help  what  you  have 
done." 

She  clung  to  his  arm.  "  I  cannot  bear  to  see  you  go 
away  ;  oh  !  pray,  if  I  only  knew  what  was  best." 

He  held  her  in  his  arms  one  instant,  the  next  he 
placed  her  in  those  of  Miss  Crumptom,  and  Lill  heard 
the  door  close. 

"  Don't  let  me  scream,  Crummie,"  she  said — "  don't," 
and  she  hid  her  face  in  her  old  friend's  bosom. 


THE   SACRED    IIOCR    OF    FOUR.  191 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

The  Sacred  Hour  of  Four. 

"While  Lill,  with  a  jarred  heart  and  head,  was  with 
Sir  Mark  and  his  party  on  tlio  road  to  Dover  via  Calais, 
Lady  Ponsonby  and  Alicia  wore  journeying  from  IVEar- 
seilles  to  Paris,  with  their  interesting  invalid,  Sir  Fred- 
erick Ponsonby. 

Hir  Frederick  is  that  eldest  son  of  Lady  Ponsonby 
already  mentioned  in  the  last  chapter,  lie  is  come 
back  to  Europe  on  sick  leave,  and  looks  certainly  a  little 
languid,  just  sufficiently  so  to  alarm  his  tender  mother. 
But,  in  fact,  the  journey  home  has  almost  sot  to  rights 
whatever  had  been  the  matter  with  his  health. 

Lady  Ponsonby  had  not  recognized  in  the  tall,  hand- 
some, moustached  man,  the  slender  stripling  of  sixteen 
who  had  left  her  ten  years  ago.  She  was  now  obliged 
to  look  up  to  him,  and  she  did  so  with  a  mother's  pride 
in  his  strength  and  comeliness. 

An  intellectual  face,  or  one  expressive  of  frankness 
and  benevolence,  is  all  that  a  man  need  have  of  beauty, 
to  insure  him  his  portion  of  that  peculiar  affection  which 
eives  savour  to  life.  Besides  having  this  intelligent 
face,  with  the  good  expression.  Sir  Frederick  Ponsonby 
had  uncommonly  regular  features :  fine  dark  gray  eyes, 
a  straight  nose,  a  perfectly  well  shaped  mouth,  glossy 
chestnut  hair ;  in  a  word,  that  sort  of  head  which  our 
neighbours  over  the  water  define  as  a  tUe  de  Christ. 

Lady  Ponsonby  was  full  of  admiration  for  this  un- 
known son.  She  sat  opposite  to  him  in  the  railway  car- 
riage, and  when  he  shortly  fell  asleep,  as  gentlemen 
occasionally  do  on  railways,  she  watched  him  with 
exactly  the  same  adoration  in  her  eyes,  as  had  been  there 
when  she  kept  vigil  by  his  cradle  some  six-and-twenty 
years  ago.  She  had  had  many  fears  for  him  during  the 
last  half-score  of  years  —  fears  of  battles  and  murder,  of 
cholera  and  cobra  capcllos,  of  debts  and  duns,  and  the 
sundry  other  dangers,  which,  as  every  reflecting  mother 
knowa,  exist   for  her  son.     But  as  she  studies  her  Fred 


192  WHO    BREAKS — PAYS. 

erick  s  brow,  almost  as  smooth  as  when  he  left  her  — 
when  she  traces  no  network  of  lines  round  his  eyes,  sees 
no  dragging  down  of  the  corners  of  the  mouth  —  she 
feels  assured  he  has  come  out  safely  from  the  tempta- 
tions of  that  wilderness  called  the  world. 

Lady  Ponsouby  arrives  in  Paris  a  happy  woman  and 
a  proud  mother.  Her  friends  are  enthusiastic  about  Sir 
Frederick  ;  they  are  more  attentive  in  calling  than  ever; 
even  Madame  de  Rochepont  de  Riviere  finds  the  young 
baronet  endurable.  "  He  was  a  man,"  she  declared, 
"for  whom  a  woman  might  be  excusable  in  having  a 
heartache.  I  maintain,"  she  added,  "  that  the  English 
are  the  handsomest  nation  in  the  world,"  and  her  con- 
temptuous glance  at  Giuliani  gave  point  to  the  asser- 
tion. 

Certainly  Giuliani  was  not  at  that  time  a  specimen  of 
his  country,  that  would  do  to  set  up  as  a  rival  to  Sir 
Frederick.  The  Italian  was  thinner  than  ever,  his  face 
more  rugged  with  deep  lines,  his  magnificent  eyes  (they, 
at  least  could  stand  a  comparison  with  the  young  En- 
glishman's) were  sunken  and  without  lustre.  His  whole 
person  revealed  the  indescribable  marks  made  l>y  the 
hand  of  sorrow.  He  appeared  what  he  was,  the  incar- 
nation of  disappointment ;  Sir  Frederick,  that  of  success. 
The  one  man  had  been  gathering  thorns  all  his  life;  the 
other,  figs.  The  one  had  seen  his  country  in  deadly 
throes  of  travail  for  liberty,  when  she  had  had  no  strength 
for  the  birth;  the  other  had  always  known  his  mother- 
land mistress  of  herself.  triuni])haiit  in  every  quarter. 

A  blighted  oak  is  a  desiraltle  object  on  canvass,  or  in 
a  word-picture ;  a  good  subject  to  moralize  or  poetize 
on,  but  we  all  prefer  to  have  fine  flourishing  trees  in  our 
avenues.  Giuliani,  was  as  much  out  of  his  jjlace  in 
Parisian  society  as  a  lightning-blasted  oak  in  a  parterre. 
He  acknowledged  this  himself,  by  the  disposition  he 
showed  to  retreat  from  its  musk-perfumed  atmosphere, 
and  wIkmi  furred  into  it,  felt  no  resentment  towards 
those  who  made  iiim  the  target  of  their  hutimots. 

Ue  felt  the  discrepancy  that  existed  between  him  aud 
his  admirable  friend's  beau-ideal  of  a  son.  They  bad 
met  with  the  cordiality  of  old  ac(|uaintance8  ;  they  never 
got  beyond  this  outward  show. 


THE    SACRED    HOUR    OF    FOUR.  193 

When  Sir  Frederick  had  beeu  in  Paris,  let  us  say  a 
month,  his  mother  and  sister  remarked  a  certain  method 
in  Ills  disposal  of  his  day.  Regularity  had  not  beeu  the 
distinguishing  trait  oi'  his  life  on  his  first  arriving  in 
Paris.  For  the  five  years  previous,  a  lucrative  staff  ap- 
pointment had  banished  him  to  an  outpost  somewhere 
in  the  mountains  of  Scinde.  Well,  Paris  was  a  great 
change ;  and  Sir  Frederick  had  not  enough  of  eyes  or 
ears  for  all  he  desired  to  see  or  hear. 

At  the  end  of  four  weeks,  he  subsided  suddenly  into  a 
methodical  person ;  his  day  was  parcelled  out  minutely. 
He  seemed  to  have  i)ut  himself  to  school  again ;  a  pro- 
fessor of  the  French  language  attended  to  enable  him  to 
rub  up  his  French,  which  had  rusted  considerably  during 
the  ten  years  in  India.  He  had  lessons  of  sing- 
ing, attended  some  popular  lectures,  but  invariably  at 
the  hour  of  four  in  the  afternoon  he  went  out,  either  on 
horseback  or  on  foot,  dressed  in  a  manner  that  denoted 
a  special  wish  to  do  his  handsome  person  justice.  On 
his  return,  there  was  always  some  costly  flower  in  his 
button-hole  which  was  afterwards  transferred  to  a  par- 
ticularly elegant  vase,  on  his  writing-table ;  and  which 
had  not  been  placed  there  by  either  his  mother  or  sistcsr 
Many  other  small  articles  of  bijouterie,  in  exquisite 
taste,  rather  than  costly,  came  to  keep  the  pretty  vase 
company. 

Occasionally  I>ady  Ponsonby  met  her  son's  valet  with 
a  letter  in  his  hand,  not  for  the  post ;  and  I  am  sorry  to 
add,  that  her  ladyship's  bonne  made  an  opportunity  to 
inform  madame,  that  a  commissionnaire  brought  a  billet 
pour  monsieur  every  morning  before  monsieur  was  out 
of  bed. 

Lady  Ponsonby  saw,  heard,  and  was  silent.  She  had 
a  great  respect  for  every  one's  personality,  She  was 
rewarded  by  her  son's  never  wisliing  to  exchange  her 
roof  for  a  separate  apartment  of  his  own. 

Sir  Frederick  was  in  love  ;  nothing  surprising  in  that 
at  seven-and-twenty  ;  but  who  with? 

That  at  present  was  what  he  kept  to  himself. 

At  last,  one  day  in  July,  Sir  Frederick  did  not  go  out 
at  four  o'clock,  but  at  that  hitherto  sacred  hour  walked 
into  his  mother's  salon,  languid  and  listless,  like  a  fish 

17 


194  WHO    BREAKS — PATS. 

out  of  water,  or  rather,  perhaps,  like  a  man  in  the  firsi 
days  after  retiring  from  business.  He  had  Galignani'a 
Messe7iger  in  his  hand. 

Giuliani  was  with  the  ladies,  and  Sir  Frederick  per- 
ceived at  once  that,  whatever  mitiht  have  been  the  sub- 
ject of  their  conversation,  they  changed  it  as  soon  as  he 
appeared.  This  of  itself  did  not  please  him  —  it  would 
not  have  been  easy  to  please  him  at  that  moment  —  so 
he  retired  unsociably  into  the  depths  of  an  arm-chair, 
and  seemed  engrossed  by  his  newspaper.  Lady  Pon- 
sonby  made  one  or  two  efforts  to  draw  him  into  conver- 
sation ;  she  was  very  sensitive  as  to  his  showing  any 
slight  to  the  Italian;  but  Frederick  was  determinedly 
sulky.     Suddenly,  however,  he  asked.— 

"Haven't  I  heard  some  of  you  mention  Miss  Tufton? 
no,  it  was  Valentine  told  me  she  and  her  grandfather 
had  been  in  Paris." 

There  was  a  little  awkward  silence  in  the  room,  such 
SS  always  occurs  when  some  one  mentions  a  subject  in 
ignorance  of  how  interesting  it  is  to  one  nf  those  uresent. 

Lady  Ponsonby  said, — 

"What  makes  you  think  of  the  Tuftons  at  this  mo- 
ment?" 

''Miss  Tufton's  name  is  here,"  he  replied,  tapping  a 
column  of  Galiijnani  ;"at  the  head  of  some  preposter- 
ous description  of  the  dress  she  went  to  court  in  ;  such 
hiiniliug,  filling  a  newspaper  with  milliner's  jargon.  I 
am  thinking,  mother,  of  rnnning  over  to  England  to 
take  a  look  at  the  old  Priory  and  Monk's  Cai)el  farm, 
and  as  these  'I'uftons'  will  be  my  nearest  neighbours,  1 
wanted  to  know  how  you  liked  them." 

"Sir  Mark  is  a  character,"  said  Lady  Ponsonby. 

"  AVhich  means  he  is  disagreeable ;   and  the  young 
lady  ?" 
'      "A  pretty  creature." 

Here  Mr.  Giuliani  took  his  leave.     Anothc*  pause. 

"  T  sup])()se  there  arc  some  habitable  r  ^ms  in  tho 
Pnory  ?"  went  on  Sir  Frederick. 

"Arc  you  really  off  in  such  a  hurry,  Fred?"  asked 
Alicia. 

"Oh,  yes!  Paris  is  insufTcrable  in  this  weather. 
Why  shouldn't  you  both  go  over  with  me,  eh,  mother  '' 


THfi    aAORED    nOCR    OF    FOUR.  195 

"Not  at  tliis  flash-of-lightnirif?  speed,  my  dear  boy. 
You  forget  I  am  au  old  woman,  accustomed  to  do  as  I 
like.  Now,  that  is,  perhaps,  the  only  thing  I  shouldn't 
be  able  to  do  in  England." 

"  My  dear  mother,  what  do  you  do  here  that  you 
couldn't  do  in  England  ?"  Sir  Frederick's  voice  showed 
disturbance. 

"  Fred,  in  our  dear  native  land,  all  is  convention, 
constraint,  or  fiction  ;  everything  done  by  rule  ;  there's 
a  particular  way  of  eating,  drinking,  and  speaking. 
Fancy  your  distress  if  I  blundered  in  the  way  I  held  my 
knife,  or  ate  my  soup,  or  pronounced  some  word,  or, 
worse  still,  made  use  of  some  word  banished  from  gen- 
teel society.  Alicia,  too,  would  get  into  all  sorts  of 
scrapes,  which  you  would  have  to  take  the  responsibility 
of.  There  are  a  hundred  other  difficulties  I  could  never 
conquer  now;  I  am  too  old  to  learn.  The  servants  ! — 
no,  my  dear,  I  should  be  frightened  to  death  at  an 
English  dinner-party;  you  know  I  have  not  been  to  one 
for  twenty  years,  and  your  sister  never." 

"All  which  means,  mother,  that  you  have  given  up 
your  own  country." 

"  My  good  Fred,  I  am  grown  a  citizen  of  the  world. 
1  do  not  believe  any  nation  has  a  mcmopolyof  goodness  ; 
there  are  probably  as  many  righteous  people  on  this 
side  of  the  Channel  as  on  the  other.  I  stay  here  simply 
because  fate  transplanted  me  long  ago,  and  I  have  taken 
root  in  the  soil  of  France  ;  old  trees  don't  bear  moving 
well,  Fred.  I  would  try  it,  however,  for  your  sake,  if  I 
saw  that  you  needed  me  ;  but  you  do  not  just  now,  when 
you  have  no  house  to  put  me  in  ;  and  London  I  protest 
against.     The  Thames  would  kill  me  in  a  week." 

"  Oh,  mother,  mother  !  and  you  dare  to  say  that  with 
such  nosegays  of  streets  as  you  have  here." 

"  Habit,  my  dear,  has  long  since  appeased  my  sensi- 
tiveness with  regard  to  these;  it  is  the  being  called 
on  to  accustom  myself  to  a  new  atmosphere  which  1 
deprecate." 

The  day  before  Sir  Frederick  started  for  England 
Lady  Fonsonby  paid  a  visit  to  Mr.  Giuliani  in  his  attic. 

"  I  have  come  to  ask  you,"  she  said,  "  whether  it  might 
not  be  as  well  to  take  Sir  Frederick  into  uur  confidence 


190  WHO    BREAKS — PAYS. 

— to  explain  to  him  liow  Miss  Tufton  is  situated  with 
regard  to  you." 

Giuliani's  olive  complexion  turned  a  shade  darker  as 
he  listened  to  this  speech.  He  took  time  before  he  gave 
his  answer,  and  then  it  was  given  with  deliberation  and 
decision. 

"  No ;  certainly  not.  In  fact,  it  is  Miss  Tufton's  se- 
cret, not  mine  ;  besides,  I  am  not  the  man  to  put  forward 
claims,  so  as  to  isolate  a  girl,  to  hem  her  within  a  magic 
circle,  out  of  which  she  cannot  escape  but  into  my  arms, 
or  by  a  painful  exposure.  My  dear  friend,  let  her  alone, 
and  look  upon  me  as  one  recovering  from  a  fit  of  insan- 
ity. I  have  swallowed  one  remedy  to-day.  I  bought 
the  Galignani  which  has  her  name  in  it.  How  reason- 
able  it  is  to  expect  that  the  young  lady  figuring  at  the 
proudest  court  in  Europe,  (m  an  (Mjuality  with  the  jjroud- 
est  aristocracy  in  the  world,  could  accept  of  this  garret, 
or  one  similar  to  it,  for  her  home  !  To  suppose  that 
Miss  Tufton  would  consider  the  world  well  lost  for  love 
of  me  is  simply  al)surd." 

Lady  Fonsonby  sigiit'd,  but  had  no  argument  to  op- 
pose to  what  Giuliani  said. 

"I  do  not  affirm,  liowcvrr,"  he  added,  "that  were  I 
still  in  the  position  in  which  I  was  born,  that  I  would 
not  have  struggled  against  all  rivals  for  her  love.  I  do 
not  allirm  even  now,  that  did  my  conscience  allow  me  to 
pursue  her,  I  might  not  make  her  love  me.  She  is  not  en- 
tirely worldly,  and  all  Knglish women,  to  their  praise  be 
it  said,  believe  in  love,  and  desire  to  marry  and  he  mar- 
ried for  love;  so  that  if  she  knew  how  1  loved  her. — 
Well,  in  all  probability  she  will  never  be  enlightened  on 
that  subject." 

Lady  Punsonby  sighed  again,  and  said, — 

"To  be  canditl  with  you,  (jliuliani,  I  fear  the  impres- 
sion she  may  make  on  my  son,  unless  he  is  forewarned." 

"  He  is  forearmed  against  her,  ilear  lady,  and  even 
were  this  not  the  case,  I  say  again,  let  her  aloue — I 
must  b(!  all  or  nothing." 

"  Forearmed  !"  repeated  Lady  Ponsouby,  in  an  eager 
voice. 

She  was  not  too  ))erfcct  lo  feel  very  lively  curiosity 
and  particularly  iu  this  instuucc. 


THE    SACRED    IIOUK    OF    FOUR.  197 

Giuliani  bowed  with  a  look  that  said  plainly  enough, 
"  You  will  Lear  no  more  from  me." 

The  intelligent,  sympathizing  friend  left  the  attic, 
wondering  at  and  admiring  Giuliani's  strength  of  char- 
acter, while  his  heart,  poor  fellow,  was  scorching  in  the 
furnace  of  jealousy  she  had  lighted  ;  while  he  was  ready 
to  throw  up  his  arms  and  cry  out:  '•  My  trial  is  beyond 
my  strength  !"  There  was  additional  pain  also,  in  the 
certainty  that  this  faithful  friend  was  unconscious  of  his 
great  burden  of  sorrow.  So  it  must  always  be.  It  is 
among  the  hard  tasks  life  gives  us  to  learn,  that  of  the 
fruitlessness  of  the  hunt  we  all  undertake  for  the  one 
who  will  sympathize  with,  and  understand,  and  rightly 
judge  us.  It  is  not  only  death,  which  every  one  of  us 
must  meet  alone,  but  every  temptation,  every  agony, 
that  assails  us  throughout  our  mortal  career.  If  we 
require  an  example  of  the  insufficiency  of  the  best  of 
earthly  friends  in  our  great  needs,  let  us  read  the  twenty- 
seventh  chapter  of  St.  Matthew.  We  shall  find  there, 
also,  in  what  spirit  we  are  to  bear  the  loneliness,  the 
desertion,  the  anguish,  which  perchance  we  reap  unde- 
servedly. 

17* 


1  93  WHO  BREAKS — PATS. 

CHAPTER    XXXIII 

Country  Neighbours. 

The  method  of  English  life,  laughingly  caricatured  by 
Lady  Ponsonby  was  telling  on  Lill.  After  a  month  in 
Loudon  she  was  inclined  to  believe  she  had  dropped 
down  in  Paris  into  a  sphere  immeasurably  removed  from 
that  in  which  she  lived  in  England  :  beginning  to  shrink 
from  the  recollection  of  many  things  she  had  done  in 
Paris.  Had  she  been  in  London,  they  could  never  have 
occurred  ;  she  had  been  moonstruck,  possessed.  She 
had  ruined  her  life.  There  was  an  unfortunate  simikrity 
ia  this  judgment  on  herself  to  that  which  Giuliani 
passed  on  himself;  with  this  diflereuce,  that  the  result 
she  feared  as  ruin  would  have  been  bliss  to  him,  and 
vice  versd. 

Lill  certainly  had  never  been  so  patriotic  as  since  her 
return  from  the  Continent.  She  allowed  that  she  had  not 
known  l)efore  how  beautiful  her  native  land  was.  She' 
could  scarcely  restrain  a  cry  of  delight  when  she  first 
caught  sight  of  Wavering,  as  they  were  driving  from  the 
station  to  the  hall.  The  sun  was  setting,  its  long,  slant- 
ing rays  drawing  a  broad  line  of  gold  along  the  tops  of 
the  hedges ;  the  summits  of  tlie  wavy  uplands  beyond, 
sheets  of  brightness ;  the  woods  nestling  within  their 
fohls  of  deep  pur])le  ;  the  village  houses  clustered  round 
the  gray-walled  church  like  a  brood  of  chickens  round  a 
motlier  hen.  Lill  was  completely  captivated  by  the  spell 
of  familiar  scenes. 

"  England  seems  to  agree  with  you  better  than  France, 
Miss  Tnflon,"  said  Sir  Mark,  in  the  course  of  the  eve- 
ning.    "You  studied  too  hard,  perliaiis,  in  Paris." 

Sly  shots  of  this  kind  never  failed  to  provoke  Ijill 
To  her,  as  to  most  im])ulsive  people,  suspense  on  any 
Puliject  was  inlolcraitlc.     IJetter  be  killed  at  once  than 
be  always  (caring  dcalli ;  so  she  replied. — 

"It  is  very  good  of  you,  Sir  Mark,  to  find  so  praise- 
wort  iiy  a  motive  for  the  dulness  you  seem  to  have 
remarked  in  me,  but  you  are  mistaken  as  to  the  cause. 


i 


COUNTRY    NEIGHBORS.  199 

I  never  was  so  idle  in  my  life  as  during  the  last  montli 
of  our  stay  in  Paris." 

"  You  had  better  not  irritate  me,  Miss  Tufton,"  was 
all  he  said. 

"  How  much  or  how  little  do  you  think  he  knows  ?" 
asked  Lill  of  Miss  Crumpton,  the  first  time  they  were 
alone. 

The  chaperone's  answer  was  not  consolatory. 

"  I  never  knew  so  cunning  a  man  ;  he  says  things  quite 
at  hazard,  just  to  throw  people  off  their  guard." 

Lill  thought  the  tone  of  voice  in  which  this  speech 
was  made  was  very  like  that  of  one  who  had  suffered 
from  Sir  Mark's  shrewdness.  She  had  her  own  ideas  of 
the  quarter  from  whence  Sir  Mark  might  have  gleaned 
information,  but  she  spared  the  old  lady. 

"  I  must  write  to  Paris,  Crummie,"  went  on  Lill ;  "  I 
have  not  written  a  line  since  the  note  to  say  we  had  ar- 
rived." No  answer  from  Miss  Crumpton.  "And  then, 
Crummie,  you  will  be  so  kind — will  you  not  ? — as  to  take 
my  letter  to  the  post-office  at  Wavering  yourself.  I 
cannot  let  the  servants  see  the  direction.  Ruth  would 
know  the  name,  if  none  of  the  others  did."  Still  a 
silence  on  Miss  Crumpton's  part.  "  Yes,  Crummie ; 
and  please,  i/ou  must  write  the  address ;  if  Mrs.  Pybus 
remarks  it,  she  will  fancy  you  are  writing  to  some  one 
on  business,  and  she  might  not  think  that,  if  she  saw  my 
hand.  Dear  Crummie,  I  am  in  the  scrape,  and  you  must 
help  me." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  girl,  if  you  would  be  advised  !" 

Lill  put  her  hands  to  her  ears. 

"  Crummie,  it's  of  no  use,"  and  she  ran  out  of  the  room. 

Certainly  half-an-honr  had  not  elapsed  before  the 
young  lady  rea]>pcared  with  a  letter  in  her  hand. 

"Done  already!"  exclaimed  Miss  Crumpton. 

"  Yes,  and  now,  Crummie,  direct  it." 

Miss  Crumpton  yielded — she  always  yielded — and 
wrote  the  address. 

"  Now,  Crummie,  you  go  at  once,  and  I  will  come  in 
the  pony  chaise,  and  meet  you  at  the  AYhite  Gate ;  and 
we'll  go  and  call  on  the  Pantons.  to  gratify  you  with  a 
sight  of  your  model  of  perfection,  M  iss  Altheniiah.  Now 
go,  dear  Crummie,  and  don't  let  Sir  Mark  catch  you," 


200  WHO    BREAKS — PATS. 

"  Poor  Crummie !"  went  on  Lill  to  herself,  as  slie 
stood  at  the  window  watching  Miss  Crunipton  stealing 
through  the  shrubbery,  "  you  have  cleverly  adopted  the 
stage  walk  of  a  traitor.  Who  that  sees  you  eould  doubt 
you  were  bent  on  some  unholy  errand." 

The  Wavering  post-office  was  at  t]\e  village  grocery. 
Every  one  knows  what  it  is  like :  it  stands  high  above 
the  road,  has  a  low  white  gate  ;  then  three  steps  of  brick, 
and  a  yard  of  steep  pathway  between  box  borders  ;  little 
plots,  in  which  are  heartsease,  and  a  red  geranium  or 
two,  some  tall  larkspurs,  and  a  great  red  dahlia,  dark 
red  roses  clustering  up  to  the  very  roof,  as  they  never 
will  cluster  on  a  gentleman's  house  ;  a  latticed  window  on 
either  side  of  the  door,  above  which  is  a  white  board,  with 
"Kczia  Pybus  licensed  dealer  in  tea,  tobacco,  and  coffee." 

As  Miss  Crumpton  came  in  sight  of  the  little  gate  a 
tall  gentleman  was  in  the  act  of  mounting  a  fine  horse. 
Who  could  it  be  ?  Miss  Crumplou  has  no  idea.  A 
stranger.  She  hurries  a  little,  but  before  she  is  near 
enough  to  have  a  good  view  of  his  face,  he  throws  a  small 
silver  coin  to  Kezia's  youngest  boy,  who  has  been  hold- 
ing his  horse,  and  rides  away  sitting  in  his  saddle  in  that 
lounging  way  which  makes  uninitiated  spectators  wonder 
that  the  rider  remains  a  rider  two  seconds.  Miss  Crump- 
ton  had  intended  to  drop  Lill's  letter  into  the  box,  with 
a  hope  it  might  pass  unheeded,  but  the  sight  of  the  care- 
less horseman  made  her  alter  her  mind.  She  opened 
Mrs.  Pybus'  door,  w'hich,  as  all  similar  doors  do,  rang 
out  a  loud  peal. 

"Your  servant.  Miss  Crumpton,"  said  Kezia.  "How 
are  you,  miss,  to-day?" 

Wavering  folks  would  have  thought  it  bad  manners  to 
have  said  "  ma'am  "  to  a  lady  who  was  not  married. 

"Quite  well,  tliank  you.  Mrs.  Tybus,"  and  as  Miss 
Crum])ton  laid  down  her  letter  on  the  counter,  slie  saw 
another  lying  tlicrc  with  "France"  alsoon  the  counter. 
"And  .Miss  'I'nftiin,  miss — is  slic  jjretty  well?  We 
haven't  seen  her  since  she  came  home  ;  no,  we  haven't. 
Sure  then,  and  yours  is  a  furrin  letter  too.  Strange 
times  for  us,  miss.  France  seems  a  mighty  deal  nearer 
tu  us  than  it  used  to  be  in  my  young  days.  Yes,  it  do 
indeed." 


COUNTRY   NEIGHBORS.  201 

"  I  did  not  make  out  who  it  was  on  horseback  at  your 
gate,"  said  Miss  Crumpton. 

"  Lawkus !"  returned  Kozia,  "  and  don't  you  know, 
miss  ?  That's  Sir  Frederick  Fonsouby  ;  he's  been  down 
at  Monk's  Capel  Priory.  Let  me  see,  how  long  be  Sir 
Frederick  here,  Charlotte  ?"  turning  to  her  sonsy  daugh- 
ter; "what  with  the  letters,  and  the  stamps,  and  tlnr 
groceries,  and  Pybus'  church  duties,  really  my  head  ain't 
what  it  used  to  be — no,  it  ain't." 

"  Sir  Frederick  been  well  nigh  on  to  a  month  here," 
put  in  Charlotte. 

"  Dear  me  !"  ejaculated  Miss  Crumpton,  "  is  he  living 
at  Monk's  Capel,  all  alone  in  that  mouldy  barn  of  a 
place?" 

"  Yes,  he  be,  Miss  Crumpton  :  half  of  the  windows  be 
out ;  but  he's  a  living  in  them  two  big  rooms  up-stairs, 
which  Fordham  done  up  last  year  in  case  he  could  let 
the  shoot.  I  hear  Sir  Frederick  a  taken  the  shoot  his- 
self,  and  bought  Bill  Fordham's  black  hunter;  leastways, 
that's  what  I  heard  'era  say,  Miss  Crumpton." 

Miss  Crumpton,  probably  by  accident,  managed  to  see, 
without  her  spectacles,  that  the  name  in  the  direction  of 
Sir  Frederick's  letter  was  not  Ponsonby. 

Lill  drove — as  she  did  everything  else — impetuously; 
that  pony-chaise,  with  the  obstimito  little  Shethind  pony, 
was  among  the  trials  of  the  chaperone's  life.  The  news 
obtained  from  Mrs.  Pybus  was.  therefore,  related  in  a 
painfully  disjointed  manner;  the  rattle  down  the  last 
hill  fairly  shook  out  of  Miss  Crumpton's  head  the  best 
point  of  her  story — the  letter  to  some  Madllc.  Mathilde 
or  M61anie  something. 

"  We  shall  have  every  particular  here,"  said  Lill, 
jumping  out  of  the  chaise  to  open  a  gate.  "  Now, 
Crunimie.  drive  up  in  style." 

Yale  House  was  an  unpretending,  long,  low  building 
of  red  brick,  bleached  by  years  and  storms  to  a  charm- 
ing warm  gray.  The  drive  to  the  door  was  not  an 
atrocious  circle  round  a  centre  plot  of  shrubs  ;  no,  it 
was  broad  and  straight,  between  two  sloping  banks, 
covered  with  fuchsias  and  red  j^raniums,  widening  as  it 
approached  the  porch.  The  drawing-room  and  dining- 
room  windows  looked  out  on  a  fine  lawn,  terminated  by 


202  WHO   BREAKS — PAYS. 

a  grassy  bank,  on  which  at  that  moment  a  magnificent 
peacock  was  parading.  As  soon  as  the  vain  bird  saw 
the  ladies,  he  came  strutting  forward,  his  spread  tail 
catching  the  wind  ;  he  almost  tnmbled  under  the  nose 
of  the  mischievous  pony. 

The  instant  the  hall  door  opened,  you  knew  you  were 
in  a  sailor's  house.  A  couple  of  oil  paintings  decorated 
the  walls.  The  first  showed  a  blue  sky  overhead,  and 
on  the  blue  sea,  under  the  soft  azure,  a  schooner  and  a 
brig,  the  distance  between  them  bridged  over  by  grace- 
fully curling  smoke  ;  this  was  a  representation  of  the 
capture  of  the  slave  brig  Santa  Maria  by  H.  M. 
schooner  Marmot  on  the  Great  Bahama  Bank  in  the 
year  18 — .  The  second  picture  portrayed  a  night 
battle,  a  savage  scene  of  the  capture  of  the  two-topsail 
slave  schooner  Dulcmea,  by  H.  M.  shooner  Scapegrace, 
after  a  chase  of  twenty-four  hours,  and  an  action  of  one 
hour  and  twenty  minutes  within  pistol-shot.  The 
slaver's  sails  were  riddled  and  falling  down,  and  so  was 
the  mast,  into  an  inky  sea  ;  so  pitch  black  was  the  sky, 
that  it  was  only  by  the  grace  of  the  moon  peeping  out 
of  one  corner,  that  you  could  see  the  Scapegrace's 
victory. 

These  two  pictures  proved  the  honourable  way  in 
which  Admiral  Panton,  a  man  without  a  scrap  of  interest 
or  a  drop  of  blue  blood  in  his  veins,  had  come  to  be  an 
admiral  before  he  reached  his  sixtietli  birthday;  a  fact 
that  had  occurred  five  years  before  Miss  'J'ufton's  pony 
chaise  stopped  at  the  porch  of  Vale  House.  They  were 
actions  fought  at  long  odds,  but  no  one  will  care  to  hear 
about  it  now,  when  such  descriptions  are  in  the  papers 
as  that  of  the  battle  of  Yolturno.  Yet  why  not  be  in- 
terested about  that  old  licart  of  oak,  Admiral  I'anton? 
He  and  glorious  Garibaldi  are  chips  off  very  siniihir 
blocks  :  the  old  tar  fought  to  free  slaves  also,  did  his 
duty;  and  what  can  a  man  do  more  ?  Tlie  o])])ortiinity 
is  not  giv(>n  to  every  one  to  show  himself  a  hero. 

Above  the  one  picture  were  a  ship's  cuthiss  and  u 
Bword ;  above  the  other  a  bit  of  manallee  skin,  made 
into  a  whi]t,  and  the  backbone  of  a  sliark,  at  least  Ad- 
miral Panton  said  it  was  a  backbone. 

"  Tell  me  the  shark  lias  no  backbone  !  why,  sir,  tli  .0 


COUNTRY    NEIGHBORS.  203 

it  is  before  your  own  eyes ;  you'll  believe  tliem,  if  you 
won't  mine." 

A  loud  hum  of  voices  reached  the  hall,  even  through 
the  closed  door  of  the  drawing-room. 

"  The  colonel  is  here,''  whispered  Lill  to  Miss  Crump- 
ton  ;  "  they  are  battling  at  the  hop  question." 

Miss  Tufton  and  her  chaporone  found  the  whole 
family  assembled.  Mrs.  Panton,  the  two  daughters 
Althcmiah  and  Eliza,  the  admiral,  his  brother  the 
colonel,  and  another  to  whom  the  colonel  was  holding 
forth  in  a  loud  voice.  This  stranger  was  introduced  as 
Sir  Frederick  Ponsonby.  Lill  at  once  hold  out  her 
hand,  greeting  him  cordially,  as  she  explained,  for  her 
dear  Lady  Ponsonby's  sake.  Let  us  look  round  the 
room  while  Sir  Frederick  is  answering  Miss  Tufton's 
inquiries  for  his  mother. 

The  admiral,  a  round-shouldered  middle-sized  man, 
■will  not  take  up  many  lines ;  his  face  is  wonderfully 
variegated,  all  shades  of  red  in  it  from  scarlet  down  to 
dark  purple,  his  eyes  are  weak  with  staring  at  the  sun 
and  heavenly  bodies.  He  and  his  brother,  the  colonel, 
are  two  impatient  men,  always  most  peculiarly  so  to  one 
another  ;  they  never  wait  to  hear  the  answer  to  any 
question  the  one  asks  of  the  other. 

Mrs.  Panton  has  no  great  pretensions  to  individuality. 
She  resembles  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  other  ladies  of 
her  age.  She  has  thick  bands  of  iron-grey  hair,  neat 
features,  a  faded  complexion,  rather  bunchy  in  figure, 
though  by  no  means  stout.  Her  eldest  daughter  con- 
stantly invents  new  caps  for  her ;  but  the  admiral  has 
never  been  brought  to  think  any  of  them  becoming. 

"  Why  do  you  wear  caps,  my  dear  ?"  he  invariably 
asks. 

"  My  age,  my  own  husband."  Yes,  that  speech  is 
Mrs.  Panton's  one  peculiarity.  The  admiral  is  her  "  o\to 
husband." 

Altlioniiah,  named  after  a  throe-docker,  is  not  pretty, 
but  win'  she  is  not  it  would  be  difiicut  to  tell ;  her  eyes 
are  good,  and  her  nose,  and  her  mouth,  and  her  teeth, 
and  her  hair,  yet  she  is  not  pretty ;  perhaps  she  is 
neither  fair  enough  nor  dark  enough,  or  too  short  for 
the  size  of  her  head,  or  her  shoulders  too  broad  for  her 


204  WHO    BREAKS — PATS. 

height ;  but  pretty  she  is  not.  Mrs.  Panton  will  assnrfl 
you  that  Althemiah  has  not  a  fault — the  most  dnlii'ul 
child  parents  ever  had.  Among  Mrs.  Panton's  friends, 
however,  her  pet  daughter  was  generally  called  •'  a  nice 
unnoticeable  little  thing."  Althemiah's  every  phrase 
begins  with  "  Mamma  thinks,"  or  "  Papa  is  of  opinion." 
Mrs.  Panton  often  thanked  God  fervently  that  Lill  Tuf- 
ton  was  not  her  daughter.  Excellent  woman  !  she  had 
never  felt  any  regrets  that  the  poor  girl  had  no  mother 
to  guide  and  protect  her. 

But  Lizzie  Panton,  called  Dolly  after  Dolly  Yardon, 
aged  sixteen,  was  pretty  even  by  the  side  of  Miss  Tuf- 
ton  ;  such  sweet  hazel  eyes,  like  a  dove's,  anez  retroussi, 
a  clear  nut-brown  complexion,  a  short,  round,  active 
figure;  met  tripping  along  in  the  lanes  or  field,  she  was 
as  pretty  a  model  for  a  May  queen  as  one  could  wish  to 
see.  The  dear  little  thing  has  been  sitting  in  a  corner, 
silently  nursing  a  lovely  white  kitten,  with  her  soft  ej'es 
fixed  on  Sir  Freilorick — a  bad  habit  she  has  acquired. 
She  came  out  of  her  corner  to  greet  her  dear  Lill. 

And  Sir  Frederick — how  did  he  appear  to  the  visi- 
tor? She  thought  him  handsome,  but  did  not  approve 
of  his  distrait  air;  he  looked  too  much  as  if  hi  were  ac- 
customed to  break  ladies'  hearts.  His  dress  also  struck 
her  as  being  finical,  like  one  of  the  figures  in  a  French 
fashion-book.  Miss  Tufton  saw  all  this  in  the  manner 
in  which  well-bred  young  ladies  manage  such  examina- 
tions. Sir  Frederick  had  no  idea  that  he  was  being 
tried,  and  judged,  and  sentenced,  by  the  pair  of  blue 
eyes,  the  curve  of  whose  half-lowered  eyelids  he  was 
admiring. 

When  Miss  Tuflon  at  last  remembers  that  she  must 
be  civil  to  Mrs.  Panton  aiul  Althemiah,  the  colonel 
pounces  again  on  Sir  Frederick. 

"  Now.  if  you  will  just  listen  to  me,  T  will  make  it  all 
clear  as  day  to  you.  Jf  the  duty  were  taken  oil',  then 
the  (Jaulshire  hojis  would  come  into  the  market  on  u 
par  with  the  Stonyshire.  I\Iy  brother  and  Fordliam 
won't  see  this;  but,  sir,  this  county  would  be  ruined — 
ruined — " 

•'  Why  the  dickens,"  interrupted  the  admiral,  who  was 
humble  under  criticism  as  to  nautical  affairs,  but  ram 


COUNTRY    NEIGHBORS.  205 

pant  on  the  subject  of  farming ;  "  Whj^  the  dickens,  I 
say,  shouldn't  brewers  and  consumers  pay  the  duty,  and 
not  the  farmers  ?  It's  infamous,  I  say,  tliat  the  produce 
of  one  county  should  be  taxed,  and  not  that  of  another ; 
it's  a  crying  injustice.!" 

"  My  good  gracious,  sir — my  good  gracious — now  just 
stop  a  minute,  and  I  will  explain  it  all  ;  put  it  all  down 
on  paper." 

Here  ensued  a  confused  duet  of  "  Government,"  "  By 
George,"  "  Profit,"  "  Taxes,"  "  Sixty  pounds,"  "  Shame- 
ful," "  Duty." 

The  admiral  stuttered  with  impatience,  the  colonel 
bearing  down  on  him,  and  over  him,  with  a  rapidity  of 
Utterance  only  to  be  paralleled  by  a  first-rate  comic 
singer.  Mrs.  Panton  throughout  talked  placidly,  some- 
times smiling  when  the  uproar  swelled. 

Sir  Frederick's  eyes,  full  of  good-natured  mirth,  went 
in  search  of  those  of  Lill.  He  seemed  quite  at  home 
with  her  already.  A  man  and  woman  while  listening  to 
very  common-place  remarks  may  receive  very  strong  im- 
pression of  each  other.  How  otherwise  account  for  the 
attachments  we  see  and  hear  of,  and  which  we  know  posi- 
tively have  neither  been  sown  nor  nurtured  by  scientific, 
philosophical  nor  sentimental  discussions  ?  Certainly 
the  epoch  at  which  two  persons  meet  who  afterwards 
love  one  another  is  seldom  marked  by  clever  conversa- 
tion. 

When  Miss  Tufton  rose  to  take  leave,  Sir  Frederick 
also  shook  hands.  The  whole  Panton  family  went  with 
them  to  the  door,  the  admiral  adjusting  the  apron  of 
chaise,  and  complimenting  Miss  Tufton  on  her  pony  and 
her  driving,  and  presenting  her  with  a  rose  and  a  spray 
of  jessamine,  'i'hey  were  a  cordial  and  kind-hearted 
family,  these  Pantons.  See,  there  is  Dolly  fearlessly 
shoving  a  lump  of  sugar  into  the  mouth  of  Black  Prince, 
Sir  Frederick's  horse. 

"  Take  care  Dolly,"  says  the  colonel  to  his  pet  ;  "  don't 
put  your  silly  face  so  near  that  fellow's  lips.  Come 
away,  I  say." 

Sir  Frederick  rode  by  the  side  of  the  pony  chaise, 
reining  in  Black  Prince  to  keep  step  with  Lill's  shaggy- 
maaed  Shetland  ;  asking  the  usual  questions  young  gen 

18 


206  WHO    BREAKS — PAYS. 

tlemen  ask  of  young  ladies  in  the  country.  Was  she 
foud  of  riding  ?  Did  she  ride  ?  Ever  go  to  the  meet, 
or  to  the  balls  at  Z —  ?  Sir  Frederick  had  heard  of  a 
picnic  to  be  given  by  the  regiment  there,  to  the  ladies 
of  the  neighbourhood.  Lill  after  an  instant's  skirmish 
with  her  conscience  which  reminded  her  of  Giuliani's 
dislike  for  ladies  riding,  confessed  she  was  very  fond  of 
riding ;  she  did  not  expect  to  have  an  invitation  to  the 
picnic,  as  having  been  abroad,  Sir  Mark  had  had  no 
opportunity  of  showing  attention  to  the  military  now  at 
Z— . 

"  The  Pautons  were  going,"  Sir  Frederick  said  ;  "  he 
was  sure  as  soon  as  Miss  Tufton  was  known  to  be  at 
Wavering  she  would  be  invited ;  in  that  case  would  she 
go?"  and  Sir  Frederick's  line  grey  eyes  pleaded  most 
flatteringly  for  an  affirmative.  But  Miss  'L'ufton  was  a 
beautiful  young  lady  of  fashion,  used  to  flattery  ;  if  the 
same  look  had  been  directed  to  Dolly  Panton,  she  would 
have  blushed  and  said,  "  Oh  !  yes,"  in  a  small,  trembling 
voice. 

Lill  was  sufficiently  embarrassed,  however,  what  to 
say  as  to  Sir  Mark's  calling  on  the  young  baronet; 
she  dared  not  answer  that  he  would,  though  it  seemed 
quite  a  matter  of  course  that  he  siiould  do  so. 

It  was  a  glorious  day,  a  little  sharp  breeze  tempering 
the  sun's  rays,  a  little  breeze  just  strong  enough  to  make 
tlie  aspens  show  the  silver  side  of  their  leaves.  Blossom 
and  fruit  were  all  around  ;  the  bronzing  wheat-lields  were 
pleasant  to  look  upon,  and  the  lazy  cattle  standing  mus- 
ing over  their  own  reflections  wherever  they  could  And 
water;  there  was  no  song  of  birds,  but  the  air  was  musi- 
cal with  insects'  hum.  Beautiful  shadows  coursed  over 
the  wavy  uplands;. as  they  rush  over  the  hedge  of  the 
road.  Black  Prince  lays  back  his  quivering  ears,  and 
protests  against  them.  T/ill  was  pleased  with  the  way 
Sir  Frederick  patted  his  horse's  arched  neck,  in  which 
every  vein  showed,  and  gently  encouraged  him  by  voice 
and  hand  to  make  accpiaintance  witli  the  objects  of  his 
alarm;  any  show  of  gentleness  in  a  great  strong  man, 
fascinates  a  woman's  licait. 

"My  pony  has  tried  your  politeness  long  enough,  Sir 
Frederick,"  says  Lill  at  last ;  perfectly  aware  uoverlhe- 


COUNTRY    NEIGHBORS. 


201 


less,  tliat  her  well-bred  escort  would  not  have  remained 
such  for  five  minutes  had  he  not  liked  to  do  so. 

Sir  Firdcrick  sees  they  are  skirting  the  park  paling^ 
and  understands  he  is  dismissed ;  he  raises  his  hat  quite 
ofiF  his  head,  and  bows  low. 

"A  very  good  imitation  of  a  Frenchman,"  observe? 
Lill,  saucily  to  Miss  Crunipton  as  he  rides  away. 

"  Far  better  looking  than  his  brother,  Mr.  Valentine,' 
answered  the  old  lady. 

"Better  looking?  Why,  Crummie,  Sir  Frederick  ia 
handsome,  and  poor  Valentine  is  only  just  tolerable." 

"That's  what  I  meant,  Lill;  I  dare  say  Lady  Pon. 
sonby  is  not  a  little  proud  of  this  young  gentleman." 

"  lie  gives  me  the  impression  of  being  too  handsome 
for  anything." 

Lill  mentioned  to  Sir  Mark  at  dinner,  the  having  met 
Sir  Frederick  Ponsonby  at  Admiral  Pautou's  that  after- 
noon. 

"  The  son  of  the  old  woman  in  Paris  ?  why  hasn't  he 
called  here  ?" 

"  Because,  I  suppose,  he  is  aware  that  in  England,  it 
is  the  custom  for  a  stranger  to  be  called  on,  by  those 
who  wish  for  his  acquaintance." 

"Is  he  going  to  l)uild  himself  a  house  on  his  large 
property  of  six  hundred  acres  ?" 

"  He  did  not  mention  his  plans  to  me,  but  as  Lady 
Ponsonby  was  very  kind  to  me  Mhcn  I  was  in  Paris,  I 
should  be  sorry  we  showed  any  slight  to  her  son." 

"  Why  didn't  she  come  with  her  son  ?"  asked  Sir 
Mark,  who  had  a  pleasure  in  teasing  Lill  with  questions  ; 
it  amused  him  to  see  her  colour  rise  and  her  eyes  flash, 
and  the  eflbrt  it  cost  her  to  maintain  her  composure. 
I'he  same  sort  of  spirit  which  makes  men  and  boys  rouse 
dogs  to  snap,  and  bark,  and  fight. 

Sir  Mark,  however,  could  be  gentlemanly  and  cour- 
teous when  it  pleased  him,  and  he  had  no  sooner  seen 
Sir  Frederick  than  it  pleased  him  to  be  l)oth.  The  tall, 
handsome,  elegant  young  man  gratified  Sir  Mark's  taste 
for  the  beautiful.  As  he  looked  at  Sir  Frederick,  he 
wished  Heaven  had  given  him  such  a  son.  He  fancied, 
as  all  do,  that  if  this  and  that  circumstance  in  his  life 
had  been  otherwise  ordered,  he  would  have  been  a  difl'er- 


208  WHO  BREAKS — PAYS. 

ent  and  happier  man.  Why  should  that  old-fashioued 
Lady  Ponsouby  have  such  a  son  to  inherit  those  few 
acres  of  Monk's  Capel,  and  the  wide  lands  of  Wavering 
go  to  a  poor  baby  of  a  youth  who  could  but  just  claim 
kith  with  liim.  "Ay,  just  the  way  all  things  go  in  the 
world,  carefully  arranged  for  man's  disappointment," 
summed  up  Sir  Mark. 

Sir  Mark  promised  the  young  baronet  leave  to  shoot 
over  his  preserves  ; — an  unkjjown  event  in  the  recollec- 
tion of  the  united  parishes  of  AVavering  and  Bloomfield: 
moreover  invited  him  to  dinner,  asking  the  choicest  of 
the  neierhliourhood  to  meet  him. 

No  wonder  Sir  Frederick  mentioned  Sir  Mark  in  hon- 
ouralde  terms  in  his  letters  to  his  mother  Of  Lill  he 
observed. — 

"  Site  is  an  extremely  pretty  person,  her  manner  rather 
too  formed  for  her  age.  She  reminds  me,  not  her  feat- 
ures, but  the  expression  of  her  face,  of  Leonardo's  Mona 
Lisa,  her  smile  is  not  frank.  Is  she  mocking  at  me  and 
the  world  in  general  ?  Her  voice  is  sweet,  but  has  a 
tone  of  defiance  in  it.  A  shade  more  of  gentleness  and 
Bhe  would  he  charming 


COMING   EVENTS.  209 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

Coming  Events  cast  their  Shadows  before 

A  YOUNG  man  in  the  country,  neither  a  clergyman,  noi 
B  farmer,  without  mother,  sister,  or  wife,  is  expected  to 
seek  the  society  of  the  female  relatives  of  his  more  for 
tunatcly  endowed  male  acquaintatices.  Music  and  riding 
are  more  than  excuses,  they  are  excellent  reasons  for 
daily  meetings  with  one's  near  neighbours.  A  canter  on 
the  short  turf  of  a  breezy  common,  is  among  the  pleas- 
antest  and  most  innocent  diversions  of  life.  Sir  Freder- 
ick was  therefore  often  to  be  seen  on  Black  Prince,  by 
the  side  of  Miss  Tiifton's  horse,  and  the  Miss  Pantons' 
ponies.  Ducts  and  trios  were  practised  in  the  morning, 
to  be  sung  in  the  evening. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Lill,  one  day  to  Sir  Frederick, 
"  as  if  you  and  I  had  met  before  ;  your  face  and  voice 
are  so  familiar  to  me." 

"  Probably  some  family  likeness  to  my  mother,  or  to 
Valentine  or  Alicia." 

Lill  smiled,  but  did  not  say,  "No,  indeed,  your  voice 
and  your  face  have  that  in  them  of  which  none  of  the 
others  of  your  family  can  boast." 

Sir  Frederick  was  indeed  one  of  those  men  who  are 
sure  to  bring  a  pleased  smile  on  women's  lips.  lie  was 
clever,  accomplished,  handsome,  never  seeking  to  lead 
the  conversation,  but  in  following  it,  let  such  gems  of 
information  drop  carelessly,  that  it  gave  the  idea,  that 
if  he  chose  to  take  the  trouble,  he  could  be  something 
superior  to  what  he  was.  He  laughed  at  sentiment  in  a 
manner,  that  inferred  he  had  a  great  share  of  it.  For 
instance,  one  evening  the  following  skirmish  took  place 
between  him  and  Lill. 

"  I  saw  by  the  way  you  arched  your  eyebrows,  Miss 
Tufton,  when  I  sat  down  to  the  piano,  that  you  do  not 
approve  of  men  playing— you  consider  billiards  and 
cigars  more  manly  amusements." 

"  More  common  certainly ;  I  hope  you  have  a  piano  at 
the  priory  ?" 

"  You  think  it  must  require  a  strong  head  to  resist 

18* 


210  WHO  BREAKS rATS. 

the  danger  of  long  evenings,  and  nothing  particular  to 
do." 

"  Indeed  I  was  not  reflecting  on  the  perils  of  solitude 
for  you." 

"You  are  not  so  charitable  then,  as  some  other  of  my 
lady  friends.  I  have  been  trying  to  ease  the  anxiety  of 
one,  by  promising  to  look  out  for  an  intellectual  middle- 
aged  housekeeper." 

"  It  puts  me  out  of  all  patience,"  said  Lill ;  "to  think 
of  the  vulgar,  jocular  advice  which  is  alwaj-s  given  to 
every  unmarried  man.  That  is  how  the  spirit  of  society 
is  spoiled." 

"  What  ?  by  the  promotion  of  marriages  ?"  he  asked, 
with  laughing  eyes. 

"  Yes,  I  think  so,"  she  said,  pettishly. 

Lill,  it  must  be  understood,  had  rushed  to  the  conclu- 
sion from  the  beginning  of  their  acquaintance,  that  Sir 
Frederick  being  Liuly  Ponsonby's  son,  must  know  the 
situation  of  Lady  Ponsonby's  friend,  Giuliani,  with  re- 
gard to  herself.  Believing  this,  she  talked  to  him  with 
the  aplomb  of  a  girl  who  considers  herself  out  of  danger 
of  being  misunderstood. 

"  It  is  quite  a  relief,"  continued  Sir  Frederick,  "  to 
meet  with  some  one,  whose  opinioTis  so  entirely  coincide 
with  niv  own.  I  see  you  are  not  the  least  romantic,  Miss 
Tuft..n."" 

"  'A  primrose  by  the  river's  brink,  a  primrose  is  to  mc,' 
and  nothing  more.  Sir  Frinlcrick." 

"You  jjrei'cr  cuuir<>rtable  stone  houses  to  the  most 
splendid  of  aerial  castles," 

She  answered  :  "  The  moment  one  awakens  from  a 
dream,  all  ])leasurable  emotions  are  over,  the  comforta 
of  stone  walls  remain." 

Miss  Tufton  sjioke  of  Sir  Frederfck  as  very  amusing, 
with  liis  nonsensical  assumption  of  being  matter-of-fact. 

No  diplomatist  that  ever  was,  or  will  be,  can  utter  the 
contrary  of  what  he  thinks  and  feels,  with  such  a  suc- 
cessful air  of  truth  as  a  young  lady  under  twenty. 

Never  had  liill  been  possessed  willi  such  a  spirit  of 
life  and  movement  as  now,  Slie  seemed  to  have  forgot- 
ten  what  weariness  was.  Tier  heart  had  thrown  off  the 
lethargy  which  had  crept  into  it  from  the  day  she  had 
promised  it  to  Giuliani.     It  1  eat  quickly  and  happily; 


COMING    EVENTS. 


211 


far  more  rapidly  than  ever,  and  with  a  new  delight.  Her 
days  were  full  and  pleasant,  too  much  so  to  leave  any 
time  for  reflection. 

This  blessed  truce  with  care  lasted  for  Lill  just  as  long 
as  it  ever  lasts  for  any  one. 

Since  her  return  to  Wavering,  it  had  been  her  habit 
to  write  once  a  fortnight  to  l\lr.  Giuliani,  giving  him  a 
sort  of  diary  of  her  Hie.  She  never  omitted  the  name 
of  Sir  Frederick  Ponsonby  where  it  ought  to  occur. 
She  meant  to  be  in  perfect  good  faith  with  the  Italian. 
She  abounded  in  expressions  of  interest  for  the  Italian 
cause,  dwelling  long  in  touching  words  of  womanly  sym- 
pathy on  the  fate  of  the  Bandicra  brothers,  a  pamphlet 
about  which  she  had  lately  been  reading. 

Giuliani  used  to  dissect  these  letters  word  by  word; 
every  sentiment  or  expression  should  have  satisfied  him, 
and  so  they  did,  on  the  sixth  perusal.  It  was  the  first 
impression  that  was  painful  and  alarming.  The  heart 
has  a  terribly  sure  divination  of  its  own.  Jealousy 
never  does  exist  without  some  cause  ;  and  as  for  letters, 
one  may  be  certain  that  the  real  feeling  of  the  dear  one 
who  writes,  will  filter  through  the  most  unconscious  or 
the  most  elaborate  effort  at  concealment. 

Giuliani  always  sat  down  to  answer  Lill's  letter  with 
the  intention  of  pouring  out  on  paper  some  of  the  riches 
of  his  tenderness  for  her.  But  no  sooner  did  he  make 
the  attempt,  than  his  pen  stopped  as  if  by  a  spell.  Some 
spirit  or  demon  whispered  to  him,  "  She  does  not  care 
for  you,  or  your  love.  You  will  only  frighten  her." 
Thus  his  letters  to  her  were  essays  on  politics,  literature, 
the  fine  arts;  on  any  subject,  but  that  of  himself  and 
his  feelings.  She  might  have  read  them  aloud  at  any 
market  cross,  except  that  prudent  people  would  have 
objected  to  her  corresponding  at  all  with  one  who  had 
been  her  Italian  master. 

Lill,  though  she  was  too  young,  too  inexperienced,  and 
alas  !  too  iiulitl'erent,  to  understand  that  this  absence  of 
all  expression  of  his  love,  anxiety,  and  pain,  was  irre- 
fragable proof  of  the  existence  of  all  three,  or  that,  as 
from  every  other  empty  vessel,  most  noise  is  to  be  heard 
from  an  empty  heart;  still  even  she  giithered  from  Giu- 
liani's letters,  what  no  one  else  would  have  perceived,  viz.; 
that  he  was  for  some  reason  or  other  displeased  with  her 


212  WHO    BREAKS — PATS. 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

Merry  England. 

Such  was  the  state  of  things  when  the  great  evei  t  of 
the  year  to  the  youthful  agricultural  population  of  that 
quiet  uonk  of  the  world  was  to  take  place. 

The  Wavering  and  Bloomfield  school  feast  shut  out 
all  incidents,  however  grand  and  important,  which  were 
at  a  distance,  just  as  a  gate  or  a  sapling  on  the  fore- 
ground will  hide  an  alp  on  the  horizon. 

It  was  the  day  when  John  Larke  the  carpenter,  famed 
for  more  than  ten  miles  round,  came  out  in  great  force 
as  contriver  and  conductor  of  the  revels. 

At  six  o'clock  on  that  morning,  he  might  have  been 
seen,  his  hand  shading  his  eyes,  examining  the  sky,  east, 
west,  north  and  south.  However  promising  the  appear- 
ance of  the  heavens,  John  with  both  a  religious  and 
scientific  knowledge  of  the  instability  of  all  things  shakes 
his  head  to  his  wife's  cheerful  anticipations,  shakes  it 
again  when  Mrs.  Ashton,  the  rector's  lady,  comes  to  him 
at  nine  o'clock,  and  says  in  her  spirited  way, — 

"  Well,  John,  we  may  have  the  tables  set  in  the 
field." 

"  Just  as  you  please,  ma'am." 

"  You  don't  pretend  to  fear  rain  to-day,"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Ashton,  laughing. 

"  Why,  you  see,  ma'am,  it  don't  do  no  harm  to  ex- 
pect." 

"  It  docs  no  harm  to  hope,"  interrupted  the  lady  ;  "  1 
always  hope  the  best,  Joim,  and  the  best  always  comes 
at  last,"  she  added  to  herself,  as  she  tripped  actively 
away. 

Stretching  across  the  glebe  field,  lying  between  the 
Bchool-house  and  the  church,  were  long  deal  tal)le3, 
ciiveri'd  with  white  tabic  cloths,  looking  from  thi^  turn- 
ing of  the  road  from  which  you  first  saw  liloomfield,  like 
a  siieet  of  water. 

The  feast  would  begin  at  two.  At  one,  small  parties 
of  children  (Icbonclicil  from  all  1h(>  lands  and  woods 
about;  the  Wavering  ciiildrcu  came  also  to  Uloomficld 


MERRY    ENGLAND.  213 

Bcliool,  each  obild  carrying  a  basket  containing  a  plate, 
sometimes  two,  a  mug,  and  a  knife  and  fork. 

From  the  back  of  the  rectory,  servants  issued  with 
large  dishes,  on  which  reposed  magnificent  cold  surloins, 
or  a  rockwork  of  buns  and  plunicake.  Before  two,  the 
Panton  family  arrived;  Dolly  in  a  new  muslin,  rosebuo' 
pattern,  cunningly  procured  by  the  colonel  through  Miss 
Tuflon's  help,  being  a  facsimile  of  one  of  Lill's  dresses 
which  he  hatl  heard  his  pet  admire.  Dolly  was  famous 
for  her  achievements  at  school  feasts  —  "a  host  in  her- 
self" agreed  all  the  rectors  of  the  surrounding  parishes. 

Ij[\\  and  Miss  Crumptoa  soon  appeared. 

'•Sh-  Mark  is  to  follow  us,"  said  Lill  to  Mrs.  Ashton. 
"  Indeed  he  is  coming,"  she  added,  seeing  some  incredu 
lity  on  the  face  of  the  rector. 

"  It  will  be  the  first  time  he  has  honoured  us,"  re- 
turned Mr.  Ashton. 

"  How  pale  Dolly  is  !"  remarked  Lill  to  Althemiah. 
"  Is  she  well  ?" 

"Mamma  does  not  think  she  is,"  replied  Althemiah;" 
"but  Dolly  would  come." 

The  children  were  by  this  time  clattering  over  the 
Denches  on  either  side  of  the  tables,  their  glittering  eyes 
riveted  on  the  beef  and  buns,  most  of  them  with  their 
knife  and  fork  uplifted  in  readiness  for  the  attack. 

A  smart  lady's  maid,  in  a  fashionable  bonnet  and 
shawl  down  to  her  heels,  is  laughingly  and  daintily  help- 
ing a  footman  to  bring  forward  the  large  cans  of  tea. 
John  Larke  and  his  aid  manage  the  beer.  John  ia 
churchwarden,  and  will  see  to  it,  that  there  is  no  abuse 
of  the  malt.  The  schoolmistress  calls  out,  "Now,  chil 
dren."  The  rector  is  at  the  head  of  one  table,  the  ad- 
miral at  the  other.  Dolly  looks  furtively  round.  It  had 
been  rumored  that  Sir  Frederick,  as  Mr.  Ashton's  prin- 
cipal parisliioner,  would  take  the  head  of  the  third  table; 
but  she  sees  Mrs.  Ashton  whisper  to  the  colonel,  who, 
a  moment  after  calls  out  to  her  : 

"You  come  and  help  us,  Dolly." 

Tiie  young  ladies  begin  to  be  very  active ;  it  seems 
iicpossible  to  satisfy  the  demands  for  beef  and  bread. 

"Why  are  you  not  eating,  little  boy?"  asked  Lill. 

"Mustard!"  he  utters  gutturally. 


214  WHO    BREAKS PATS. 

"Mustard!"  repeats  the  lady's  maid,  condescendingly} 
•*  poor  fellow !  I'll  run  for  it  directly.  Miss  Tuftou." 

"  You  stay  where  you  are,"  says  John  Larke,  church- 
wardcnly ;  "  one  of  the  men'll  go  quicker  than  you  with 
your  mincing  steps." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Larke,  I  am  obliged  to  you  for  your  good 
opinion." 

Carriages  are  arriving,  and  more  young  ladies  help. 
Mammas  and  married  sisters  are  sitting  on  chairs  and 
benches,  or  walking  round  the  tables  as  spectators. 

"  I  say,  you  Jim,"  cries  out  the  rector's  son,  a  fine  boy 
of  nine  years  old.  "  what's  the  matter  w'ith  you  ?" 

"I'm  fasting.  Master  Harry." 

Harry  supplies  him,  whispering  to  Lill, — 

"  Goodness  !  and  he  has  had  two  large  helpings." 

In  Jim's  defence,  be  it  said,  he  never  sees  roast  beef 
but  at  the  school  feast. 

The  lady  spectators  are  interchanging  news  about 
their  babies,  or  their  boys  and  girls,  or  about  their 
neighbours. 

"  Lill  Tufton  is  prettier  than  ever." 

"Do  you  think  so?  It  strikes  me  her  complexion 
was  fiucr  last  year." 

"  She  is  paler ;  but  Dolly  Panton  hast  lost  her  colour 
altogether.  Mrs.  Panton  ought  to  give  those  girls  a 
chance  of  seeing  more  of  the  world ;  she  never  seems  to 
think  of  the  future." 

"  There  is  a  fate  in  these  things ;  Miss  Tufton  has 
been  enough  in  the  world,  and  pretty  as  she  is,  she  is 
not  settled." 

"  Prol)ul)]y  her  own  fault.  By-the-by,  w^here's  Sir 
Frederick?     On  dit.  he's  looking  that  way." 

"  Oh,  those  horrid  children,  what  a  noise  they  make  !" 

The  beef  had  vanished,  and  so  had  the  buns,  and 
cakes,  and  bread,  and  the  gallons  of  beer  and  tea. 

"Now  Miss  Finch,"  says  Mrs.  Asliton,  "set  the  girls 
o(rplayin!r;  Miss  Eliza  Panton  will  helpyou.  Mr.  Her- 
bert CoUield  and  his  brollier  are  going  to  play  cricket 
with  tlie  boys." 

The  boy-'  side  of  the  field  is  very  liv(>ly.  aclually  some 
of  them  throw  olV  tlieir  jackets,  and  appear  in  pink  sliirts. 
The  girls  as  yet  are  ioo  shy  to  play.     Dolly  leads  Ian- 


MERRY   ENGLAND.  215 

gnidly,  and  Tom  Titler  is  very  slow.  A  horseman  waves 
his  hat  from  the  road  iu  greeting  to  the  assembly,  and 
the  boys  give  a  small  hurrah.  Dolly's  face  grows  bright, 
then  clouds  over.  Only  Sir  Mark  Tufton.  Lill  is  lead- 
ing a  party,  striving  all  she  can  to  put  some  aaimation 
into  them.     "  Come,  then  — " 

"  Lady  Queen  Anue,  she  sits  in  the  sun, 
As  fair  as  a  lily,  as  brown  as  a  bun,"  &c. 

Another  cheer,  a  very  boisterous  one.  This  time  it  is 
all  right;  Sir  Frederick  has  come  on  foot,  and  there  he 
is,  bowing  to  the  ladies ;  and  now  he  is  among  the  boys. 
The  sports  have  received  a  new  impetus.  The  true 
spirit  of  a  leader  has  come  back  to  Dolly  ;  she  makes  the 
girls  run.     "Who  can  catch  her? 

The  sun  is  on  a  level  with  the  church  roof. 

"  It's  time  to  leave  off,"  whispers  the  rector's  lady  to 
the  rector.     "  What  are  they  doing  ?" 

Who  would  have  expected  it  from  Sir  Frederick  ? 
There  he  is  running  at  the  top  of  his  speed ;  boys  and 
girls  in  full  chase.  He  runs  famously :  the  moment  he 
is  in  danger  of  being  caught,  he  showers  down  ginger- 
bread nuts,  or  those  enticing  red  and  yellow  and  white 
concoctions,  which  fill  sundry  huge  glass  bottles  in  Mrs. 
Pybus's  left  hand-window.     She  will  need  a  new  supply. 

How  odd  !  How  kind  !  Approving  looks,  mocking 
smiles,  follow  the  young  baronet.  Flushed,  and  the 
handsomer  for  it.  Sir  Frederick  at  last  gives  in,  and  falls, 
perhaps  not  undesignedly  so,  at  Miss  Tufton's  feet;  one 
of  the  smiles  he  thinks  so  mysterious  is  on  her  face,  at 
that  very  instant.  He  looks  away,  meets  Dolly's  dear 
eyes,  springs  up  as  if  stung,  and  hastens  to  Mrs.  Ashton's 
side  as  though  he  had  perceived  that  lady  to  be  iu  need 
of  his  assistance. 

A  very  substantial  tea  is  provided  on  these  occasions 
for  the  friends  invited  to  the  school  feast.  The  tea  is  in 
point  of  fact  a  cold  dinner.  Ceremony  belongs  e.xclu- 
sively  to  hot  dishes  ;  certainly  there  w.is  very  little  of 
it  that  evening  in  the  rectory  dining-room.  The  gentle- 
men who  had  a  right  to  the  highest  seats  were  in  the 
lowest.  Sir  Mark  Tufton  was  beside  Althcmiah  ;  Sir 
Frederick  next  to  the  rector's  daughter,  a  young  lady 


216  WHO    BREAKS — PAYS. 

of  eleven  years  old.     Ralph  Colfield   had  manoeuvred 
himself  iuto  a  seat  by  Dolly. 

Every  one  and  every  thing  in  that  handsome  room  de- 
noted prosperity.  All  the"  guests  round  the  rector's 
hospitable  table  were  favoured  children  of  the  earth. 
Not  one  had  ever  known  the  heart-breaking,  up-hill  work 
of  a  struggle  for  mere  material  existence  ;  none  had  an 
idea  of  the  fruitless  rolling  of  a  wheel,  or  of  pouring 
water  into  sieves.  Yet  smooth  as  those  lives  appeared, 
every  one  was  troubled  and  vexed  with  a  rumpled  rose- 
leaf.  Even  that  pretty  sixteen  year  old  Dolly  would 
have  said,  had  you  asked  her  opinion  of  the  world,  "  that 
it  wars  all  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit." 

The  company  parted  early  :  while  they  were  standing 
in  a  confused  group,  waiting  for  the  carriages,  Sir 
Frederick  came  to  Miss  Tufton  with  her  burnous  over 
his  arm. 

"  This  is  yours,  I  am  sure,"  he  said. 

"  I  am  at  a  loss  to  guess  how  you  made  the  discovery," 
returned  Lill. 

"  Are  you  not  partial  to  the  perfume  of  violets  ?" 
asked  he,  laying  his  face  on  the  soft  cachmcre. 

"How  dare  you?"  rose  to  Lill's  lips.  She  only  re- 
frained on  account  of  those  about  her ;  but  she  made  an 
attempt  to  take  the  cloak  from  Sir  Frederick  ;  who  mis- 
interpreting her  action,  or  pretending  to  do  so,  folded 
the  warm  soft  wrap  round  her.  Tliat  moment  Lill's  eyes 
met  those  of  Dolly,  who  was  standing  where  the  light 
of  the  hall  lamp  fell  on  her;  Lill  shivered. 

"  You  are  catching  cold;"  said  Sir  Frederick  in  his 
rich  voice  ;  such  a  dangerous  voice  sometimes. 

"  Good  night,  dear  D\)lly,"  said  Lill. 

"What  did  Dolly  do,  but  give  the  extended  hand  a 
sharp  little  liip,  and  run  away  with  a  laugh  that  had  no 
mirth  in  it  ? 

Lill  shivered  again,  and  then  Sir  Frederick  drew  up 
the  hood  of  her  mantle,  and  led  her  to  the  carriage. 


FALSE    APPEARANCES.  217 

CHAPTER   XXXYI. 

False  Appearances. 

GoTJLD  it  be  from  cold  that  Lill  shivered  on  that  nalmy 
July  night?  No,  indeed:  it  was  from  a  sudden  revela- 
tion made  to  her  by  the  earnestly  interrogatinty  eyes  of 
her  little  friend.  Lill  knew  now  the  reason  of  that 
species  of  surveillance  with  which  Dolly  had  lately 
vexed  her.  She  saw  herself  standing  on  the  brink  of  a 
precipice.  She  had  been  gliding  down  a  slope  so  smooth, 
that  she  had  been  unconscious  of  its  descent.  Only  a 
violent  backwai'd  movement  could  save  her  from  going 
over. 

Sir  Mark  was  in  high  good-humour  during  the  drive 
home,  actually  joking  Miss  Crumpton  on  Colonel  Pan- 
ton's  attentions.  But  Lill  could  hear  nothing  distinctly, 
for  the  piercing  reiteration  in  her  ear  of  one  word.  "  dis- 
loyal." She  threw  back  the  hood,  so  carefully  drawn 
round  her  head,  undid  the  fastening  of  the  burnous,  sat 
forward  with  her  head  out  of  the  window,  panting  for 
breath.  Haifa  dozen  subjects  crowded  her  thoughts  ;  she 
•wonders  the  while  at  the  green  tinted  flame  of  the  glow- 
worm, at  the  blackness  of  the  trees  against  the  sky  ; 
every  leaf  that  stirs  seems  to  her  to  have  a  threatening 
message.     She  once  more  cowers  back  into  her  corner. 

"  Are  you  asleep.  Miss  Tufton  ?"  questioned  Sir  Mark. 

"  No,  only  too  tired  to  talk." 

"  I  have  invited  a  dozen  of  the  people  we  met  to-day 
to  dine  with  us  the  day  after  to-morrow." 

Lill  roused  herself  to  say,  "That  is  very  short  notice." 

"  So  it  is.  Miss  Tufton,  but  I  wanted  to  have  that 
capital  fellow,  Sir  Frederick,  before  he  goes  to  Paris. 
Metal  more  attractive  there,  than  my  partridges  and 
pheasants." 

"  Thank  God  !"  very  nearly  burst  from  Lill's  lips. 

"  I  beg  vour  pardon,"  said  Mai-k,  politely. 

"  For  what  ?" 

"  For  not  having  heard  what  you  said." 

Lill  at  that  instant  would  have  been  grateful  for  the 
prop  of  a  friendlv  word  ;  verv  good  impulses  were  in  her 

19  ' 


218  WHO   BREAKS — PATS. 

heart,  but  Sir  Mark's  ironical  manuer,  as  it  always  did, 
oraced  her  spirit  up  to  defiance. 

"  If  you  wish  to  know  what  I  thought,  but  did  not  in- 
Intend  to  express,  it  was  that  I  was  glad  Sir  Frederick 
was  going  to  see  his  mother.  After  being  away  ten 
years,  he  might  give  some  weeks  to  her." 

"  Upon  ray  word,  Miss  Tufton,  I  am  pleased  at  your 
austere  ideas  of  duty  to  parents ;  surprised  at  yoit 
philosophic  indifference  to  one  of  the  handsomest  and 
pleasantest  young  fellows  I  ever  met." 

"You  ought  to  have  said  rejoiced  instead  of  sur- 
prized. Sir  Mark,  considering,  as  you  say,  there  is  metal 
more  attractive  in  Paris ;  but  for  my  indiflerence,  I 
should  have  had  to  wear  a  willow  wreath  at  your  dinner- 
party." 

Sir  Mark,  at  the  mention  of  the  willow  wreath,  ab- 
stained from  a  further  attack. 

Alone,  with  her  bedroom  door  locked,  Lill  sat  with 
her  head  within  her  hands.  No  need  to  reflect  or  ex- 
amine herself.  Slic  knew  what  had  happened,  knew 
that  her  heart  beat  wildly  for  some  one,  and  that  one 
not  Giuliani.  He  was  for  ever  driven  out  of  the  sanctu- 
ary promised  to  him  ;  her  joys,  her  sorrows,  her  thoughts 
were  grouped  round  Sir  Frederick. 

"  What  will  become  of  me  ?"  she  muttered,  and  slow, 
scorching  tears  rolled  over  her  hot  cheeks.  "I  must 
try  to  do  right.  Oh  !  that  I  could  go  back  to  what  I 
was  only  one  year  ago;  how  dilfereiitly  1  would  act!  If 
any  one  were  to  ask  me  why  I  did  not  say  no  to  Mr. 
Giuliani  when  he  put  it  in  my  power,  I  could  not  give  a 
reason.  I  had  such  a  confusion  of  foclinsrs  at  the  time, 
a  sort  of  stupid  idea  that  I  had  encouraged  him,  and  I 
did  lilce  him  so  much  till  directly  afUMwards." 

Quite  true,  Lill  ;  you  had  liked  him  until  lie  added  a 
new  ingredient  to  your  intercourse;  this  addition  it  was 
whicli  had  soured  all  tlie  sweet  tiiat  existed  liefurc. 

"  All  wrong,  always  all  wrong  ;  so  weak  to  be  always 
wrong. — no.  this  time  I  will  do  riglit.  Though  1  die  for 
it,  1  will  hold  to  my  word." 

She  was  pacing  up  and  down  the  room,  talking  toiler- 
self.  She  would  send  a  letter  to  (iinliani  by  Sir 
Frederick  :  if  the  young  baronet  was   not  aware  of  hei 


FALSE    APPEARANCES.  219 

engagement,  and  now  Lill  doubted  it,  this  act  of  liera 
would  make  U  clear  to  him.  As  for  inflicting  pain  on 
Sir  Frederick  in  her  present  mood,  she  enjoyed  the  idea 
of  doing  so — she  felt  revengeful  towards  him. 

"  No  fear  of  this  fine  Leandcr  dying  for  love  of  any 
one." 

It  was  a  pleasure  to  her  to  mock  at  him.  Then  she 
turned  round  on  herself,  "  I  am  a  detestable  creature;  I 
declare  to  Heaven  1  despise  myself,  I  know  no  good  of 
this  man,  but  that  he  can  sing  like  a  nightingale  and  ride 
like  any  trooper.  I  don't  believe  he  cares  a  pin's  head 
for  me,  and  yet  I  am  ready  to  follow  him  to  the  end  of 
the  world,  and  trample  on  a  great  and  noble  heart  to  do 
so;  no  doubt  of  what  I  would  do,  had  I  the  option. 
Poor  Giuliani !  and  you  actually  would  give  your  life  for 
me,  would  make  your  body  my  shield  any  day.  God  help 
me,  God  help  me,  and  drive  this  evil  spirit  out  of 
me." 

Love  is  as  insatiable  as  death,  and  prayers  such  as 
that  put  up  by  Lill  never  reached  heaven.  She  had 
other  and  worse  trials  before  her,  ere  rest  came. 

The  next  morning  Lill  wrote  her  letter  to  Giuliani ;  a 
very  different  one  from  any  she  had  ever  sent  him.  She 
made  use  of  words  which,  had  they  been  the  expression 
of  real  scniinieuts,  she  could  never  have  had  the  courage 
to  put  down  on  paper  for  him  to  see.  While  she  wrote 
them  she  was  thinking  simply  of  the  vexation  they  would 
cause  Sir  Frederick  could  he  read  them.  She  sealed  the 
envelope,  directed  it,  and  added  in  one  corner,  "  honoured 
by  Sir  Frederick  Ponsouby." 

She  was  in  the  most  overpowering  spirits  all  day. 
When  Ruth  came  to  dress  her,  unlike  her  usual  habit  of 
reading  while  her  hair  was  arranged,  Ijill  rattled  away 
in  an  unconnected  way  to  her  maid. 

"Try  how  I  should  look  with  that  great  rose  in  the 
front  of  my  hair,  Ruth  ;  I  like  it — fasten  it  somehow — 
exactly  in  the  parting." 

Ruth  objected,  first  the  difficulty,  and  then  the  unbe- 
coming oddiiess. 

"  I  don't  care,  I  will  have  it  so,"  said  Lill,  with  sudden 
violence.     "  There,  take  some  of  the  hair,  and  plait  i 
in."    She  tmd  to  do  it  herself,  but  her  fingers  trembled 


220  WHO   BREAKS — PAYS. 

SO,  she  was  obliged  to  desist.  The  next  moment  sha 
would  not  have  anj-  flowers  in  her  hair  at  all. 

When  Ruth  had  finished  her  labours,  and  Lill  was 
alone,  she  took  the  letter  for  Giuliani  out  of  her  desk, 
looked  at  the  address,  placed  it  within  the  folds  of  her 
handkerchief,  and  was  about  to  go  downstairs — yes,  she 
was  resolved — her  hand  was  on  the  lock  of  the  door, 
when  the  impulse  born  amidst  a  storm  of  emotion  gave 
way.  She  grew  faint-hearted,  and  the  letter  was  de- 
stroyed, torn  into  the  smallest  atoms.  She  then  went 
down  with  a  feeling  of  relief. 

The  fever  in  Lill's  veins  flushed  her  cheeks  and 
brightened  her  eyes.  Even  those  most  familiar  with  her 
beauty  were  struck  by  its  radiance  this  evening. 

"  She  is  wonderfully  lovely,"  thought  Sir  Frederick, 
and  his  eyes  continually  sought  her. 

"Where  is  Dolly?"  Lill  asked  of  Mrs.  Panton. 

"A  bad  headache — school  feasts  always  knock  her  up  ; 
and  indeed,  I  am  afraid  I  am  wrong  to  let  her  go  to 
grown-up  parties ;  Althemiah  did  not  till  she  was  eigh- 
teen." 

"And  the  colonel,  I  suppose,  has  stayed  at  home  with 
his  pet  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  we  counted  heads,  for  Sir  Mark  was  so  good 
as  to  tell  Althemiah  who  were  to  be  of  the  party, 
and  we  found  we  should  be  thirteen  if  the  colonel 
came." 

Sir  Frederick  was  standing  by  Miss  Tufton  ;  she  said, 
recklessly, — 

"  Once  in  Paris,  at  the  Caledons' — do  you  know  the 
Caledons,  Sir  Frcdi^rick  ? — I  very  nearly  drove  the  lady 
of  the  house  wild.  Sir  Mark  wouldn't  sit  down  thirteen 
to  dinner,  and  I  was  late — that  was  where  1  first  met 
Mr.  (iiuiiani." 

"Indeed!  my  mother's  friend!  T  did  not  know  you 
were  ac(piaintrd." 

"  He  is  a  particular  friend  of  mine." 

"  Wlio  is  yinir  particular  friend,  Miss  'I'ufton?"  asked 
Sir  Mark. 

"Mr.  (jiuliani,"  nspeated  Lill,  in  loncs  as  clear  is  a 
trumpet. 

"  What !  the  Italian  master  ?"  said  Sir  Mark;  tho  man 


FALSE    APPEARANCES.  221 

yoi.  got  the  opera  box  out  of?     Here's  an  opportunity 
for  yot — send  him  the  money  by  Ponsonby." 

"  I  told  you  once,  Sir  Mark — "  but  Sir  Mark  was  at 
the  «<th(M-  end  oi"  the  room  receiving  Mr.  Langden,  the 
miliionuairc,  who  now  possessed  the  Ponsonby  estate 
all  of  it,  with  the  exception  of  Sir  Frederick's  farm  ot 
MoJik's  Capel  and  the  Priory. 

^Ir.  Langdcn  was  a  middle-sized,  heavy  man,  neither 
ngly  uor  handsome,  neither  young  nor  old.  The  only 
decided  opinion  that  could  be  given  about  him  was,  that 
he  was  rich  and  unmarried. 

Sir  Frederick  had  expected  to  take  Miss  Tufton  in  to 
dinner.  She  did  not  see  him,  so  occupied  was  she  with 
Mr.  Langden.  The  young  baronet's  lip  curled,  as  she 
passed  him  leaning  on  Mr.  Langden's  arm. 

During  dinner,  the  lady  at  Sir  Frederick's  right  made 
some  remark  to  him  which  led  to  a  discussion  between 
them  of  the  comparative  merits  of  English  and  French 
women.  Sir  Frederick  took  care  his  opinion  should  be 
distinctly  heard  by  Miss  Tufton. 

"  Kngliskwomen  are,  1  fancy,  the  handsomest  and  the 
best  possible  women  in  the  universe,  but  in  dress  and  iu 
manner  they  do  not  shine.  'J'he  best  dressed  English- 
wonuui  always  has  something  heavy  and  overdone  about 
her ;  while  a  Frcnclnvonian  sets  herself  and  her  dress 
off,  so  that  if  there  are  imperfections,  they  do  not  strike 
the  eye  as  they  do  in  her  English  rival." 

"  And  what  do  you  say  to  their  hair  ?"  suddenly  in- 
terposed Mr.  Langden. 

Sir  Frederick  was  so  surprised  at  the  quarter  whence 
the  question  issued,  that  he  did  not  answer  promptly 
enough  to  prevent  Mr.  Langden  from  proceeding. 

"  When  1  was  in  Paris,  I  never  could  bear  to  look  at 
d.  Frenchwoman's  head — it  seemed  as  if  they  had  torn 
the  liair  out  by  the  roots.  The  parting  was  as  wide  as 
my  finger."     And  he  held  up  a  particularly  thick  finger. 

Sir  Frederick's  glance  dwelt  an  instant  on  the  linger, 
and  then  sought  Miss  Tufton's  eyes  with  a  look  of  con- 
gratulation. 

"  The  fact  is,"  went  on  Sir  Frederick  to  his  neighbour, 
as  if  Mr.  Langden  had  not  spoken,  "A  Frenchwoman 
knows  how  to  be  handsome  without   beaaty;    the  whj 

19* 


222  WnO    BREAKS — PAYS. 

and  the  liow  remains  a  mystery  to  women  of  all  othei 
nations." 

Lill  lausched  a  mirthless  lang'h,  and  retorted, — 

"And  all  the  world  knows  that  the  English,  particu 
larly  English  men.  have  a  decided  taste  for  the  mysteri- 
ous  and  supernatural." 

"Indeed!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Lano-den,  "I  thouq-ht  that 
we  were  the  most  matter-of-fact  peojile." 

"  Some  of  us  are,  most  hopelessly  so,"  said  Lill,  quietly, 
and  dropped  into  silence. 

Sir  Mark  in  his  loud,  overbearing  way,  was  saying, — 

•'  Know  Mrs.  Yenner  !  I  think  1  do  ;  she  ought  to  be 
killed,  strangled,  choked ;  she  made  me  drive  once  eleven 
miles  to  eat  her  haunch  of  venison,  and  it  was  cold, 
spoiled.  I'll  never  forget  it,  never  forgive  her,  never 
go  into  her  house  again." 

Mrs.  Panton's  mild  voice  here  intervened.  Mrs.  Pan- 
ton  was  always  graphic  in  description. 

"A  most  respectable  person,  1  assure  yon,  Mr.  Lang- 
den,  only  so  deaf ;  comes  of  a  good  stock;  his  father 
was  in  the  Churcii,  and  he  had  a  cousin  a  lawyer ;  and 
that's  the  kind  of  person  he  is." 

Lill  listened,  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  never 
heard  such  conversation  before.  Were  all  tluse  ])eople 
rational  beings?  Her  head  was  aching  sadly  with  the 
buzz  and  nonsense.  She  was  thankful  when  Sir  .Mark 
fr(  wacd  to  her  to  take  the  ladies  away. 


CKOSS   PURPOSES.  223 

CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

Cross  Purposes. 

"When  tlie  gentlemen  came  into  the  drawing-room, 
Sir  Frederick  sat  down  by  Miss  Tufton.  Siie  took  no 
notice  of  him,  so  he  began  turning  over  the  books  on  a 
table  near  him. 

"Ah  !  I  see  you  are  of  the  same  school,  Miss  Tufton, 
as  my  mother  and  sister,"  said  Sir  Frederick,  showing 
her  the  pamphlet  of  the  Bandiera. 

"  And  you,  of  course,  are  of  a  diifcrent  one  ?" 

"  Are  your  opinions  of  a  delicate  pink,  or  are  they  of 
the  deepest  sanguinary  hue,  Miss  Tufton  ?" 

"  I  should  hope  that  respect  for  the  rights  of  the 
people — respect  and  sympathy  for  men  who  prefei 
death  to  slavery — may  be  confessed  without  bringing 
down  on  me  the  charge  of  being  a  red  republican." 

Lill  had  an  inner  feeling  of  satisfaction  in  using 
against  Sir  Frederick  some  of  what  she  recollected  as 
Giuliani's  sentiments. 

"Ah!  you  have  taken  the  infection  strongly,  I  see; 
quite  natural;  you  are  at  the  age  for  enthusiasm  with- 
out reflection." 

"  And  you,  I  suppose,  at  the  age  which  reflects  that 
it  is  best  to  worship  the  powers  that  be,"  retorted  liill. 

"  All  l-adics  have  a  tender  weakness  for  conspiracy 
and  conspirators— for  what  is  beyond  the  law,"  said  Sir 
Frederick. 

"  I  suppose  you  will  allow  that  people  don't  risk  their 
lives  merely  for  the  pleasure  of  conspiring,  and  that  it  is 
not  the  rule  to  conspire  against  a  good  government." 

Lill  was  growing  very  angry,  the  more  so  that  she 
read  something  very  like  fun  in  Sir  Frederick's  eyes. 

"  Perhaps  not  a  reasonable  nation,  such  as  our  own, 
■ — but  Italians!  why,  conspiracy  is  a  part  of  their 
national  character  ;  they  are  a  dramatic  race,  fond  of 
pointed  hats,  and  red  cloaks,  and  of  firing  from  behind 
rocks  and  walls  on  unarmed  passengers." 

Lill's  eyes  were  two  flashing  fires  now  ;  why  couldn't 
she  find  somclliing  sharply  mortifying  to  say  ? 


224  WHO    BREAKS — PATS. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Tufton,  do  not  be  angry,  but  do  be- 
lieve that  when  a  nation  is  worthy  of  freedom  they  have 
it :  no  class,  no  nation,  can  be  kept  down,  unless  it  has 
some  inherent  defect  or  vice  which  justifies  the  degra- 
dation." 

"  That  is  to  say,  weakness  is  a  justification  for  injustice 
and  oppression  :  a  noble  and  generous  doctrine  summed 
up  in  three  words, — might  is  right." 

"You  mistake  me  :  I  do  not  consider  miglit  as  right. 
I  should  be  delighted  to  see  that  slyest  and  luckiest  of 
conspirators,  Louis  Philippic,  dethroned ;  I  hope  to  do 
so.  I  despise  the  stupidity  of  the  French  people  who 
took  the  crown  from  a  royal  gentleman  to  give  it  to  a 
huckster." 

"  You  have  been  well  received  by  the  Faubourg  St. 
Germain,  1  perceive,"  said  Lill,  coldly.  "  We  are  born 
to  be  enemies.  Sir  Frederick.  I  hate  and  detest  the 
Bourbons — the  root  more  than  the  branches." 

"  And,  no  doubt,  for  the  capital  reason  ladies  have 
for  hating  and  loving, '  retorted  Sir  Frederick. 

Lill  had  hit  him  with  the  words  Faubourg  St.  Ger- 
main.    Lill  said  passionately, — 

"  A¥omen  sometimes  can  give  reasons  for  doing  both 
one  and  the  other,  Sir  Frederick." 

At  that  instant  she  believed  she  hated  liim.  Lill,  to 
avoid  singing  duets  with  Sir  Frederick,  proi)osed  games. 
When  he  had  rejoined  the  ladies  in  the  drawing-room, 
he  was  quite  willing  to  make  pea'.e  with  his  pretty 
hostess;  but  all  through  the  evening,  whenever  the  op- 
portunity had  occurred  of  giving  him  a  sharp  retort,  she 
had  seized  on  it.  For  instance,  when  they  were  playing 
at  "Throwing  a  light  upon  it,"  twice  running,  sufficient 
light  had  Ijeeii  gained  to  see  that  the  object  to  be  dis- 
covered was  a  man;  Sir  Frederick  had  asked  the  fir.st 
time,  "  Is  he  good  V"  When  he  put  the  same  «piestion 
again,  Lill  called  out:  "  How  very  moral  Sir  Frederick 
Ponsonliy  is  !" 

Poor  girl,  she  was  dreadfully  tired  of  the  jiart  she  was 
acting,  longing  for  every  one  to  go  and  leave  her  to  be 
miserable  and  silent. 

Admiral  Pan! on  was  the  dread  of  all  the  musical 
young  ladies  of  the  neighbourhood.     Never  was  there 


CROSS    PURPOSES.  225 

a  man  so  devoid  of  tact,  that  fiae  extra  sense  which  best 
enables  its  possessor  to  dispense  with  amiability  or 
moral  worth.  The  admiral  would,  with  a  smiling  ruth- 
lessness,  interrupt  the  most  interesting  conversations 
with, —  "Come,  are  we  to  have  no  music  this  even- 
ing?" 

"Oh,  yes,  admiral,"  would  his  victim  answer;  "do 
make  dear  Althemiah  play." 

"  No  ;  no  playing ;  who  cares  for  Althemiah's  playing  ? 
That's  not  what  1  want;  it's  a  song  from  you.  Miss 
Harriet,  or  Miss  Rose,"  or  whatever  the  name  of  the 
doomed  might  be. 

This  particular  evening  he  pounced  on  Miss  Tufton. 
He  could  not  see  the  almost  despair  with  which  she  said 
it  was  a  pity  to  interrupt  the  game. 

No,  no,  no :  she  must  oblige  him  by  singing  "  The 
Skipper  and  his  Boy." 

Yon  might  have  heard  a  pin  drop  whDe  Lill  sang  ;  her 
voice  had  in  it  that  ring  of  intense  feeling  which,  issuing 
from  a  soul  in  pain,  cleaves  its  way  to  the  hearts  of  the 
listeners.  Even  Sir  Mark  was  quiet ;  he  looked  at  his 
granddaughter  as  she  left  the  instrument  with  curiosity. 
Admiral  Panton  had  achieved  such  a  success  by  his  first 
importunity,  that  he  now  attacked  Sir  Frederick.  Sir 
Frederick  would  be  delighted  to  sing  a  duet  with  Miss 
Tufton,  but  Miss  Tufton  said,  dryly,  "that  she  was 
hoarse  ;  he  might  have  heard  she  was." 

Sir  Frederick  sat  down  to  the  piano ;  he  was  able  to 
accompany  himself  in  a  simple  song  ;  on  the  present  oc- 
casion he  chose  one  of  those  foolish  ditties  in  which 
every  verse  ends,  "  Forget  thee,  never  !"  Did  he  intend 
or  not  to  throw  any  particular  meaning  into  the  words  ? 
That  is  among  the  facts  of  his  history  never  to  be  known. 
It  was  out  of  his  power  to  have  calculated  on  the  effect 
he  produced.  'I'he  third  time  ho  pronounced  "  Forget 
thee,  never  1"  Lill  rose  from  her  seat  with  a  sort  of  stiff, 
mechanical  movement,  starod  wildly  about  her  like  one 
in  need  of  help,  then,  with  the  same  species  of  sleep- 
walking effort,  sa-t  down  again.  No  one  appeared  to 
have  observed  her  ;  Sir  Frederick  had.  She  was  sitting 
sideways  to  the  piano,  and  his  head  had  been  lurned  to- 
wards her.  The  mute  appeal  of  agony  had  thrilled  through 


226  WHO   BREAKS — PAYS. 

him:  he  tried,  but  was  unable  to  finish  the  fourth  verse; 
he  made  a  laughing  apology  for  his  want  of  memory. 

"  On  !  sing  the  third  verse  over  again,"  implored  one 
young  lady. 

Sir  Frederick  engaged  his  charming  petitioner  in  a 
violent  flirtation,  during  which  he  watched  the  expressive 
clenching  of  Lill's  hands. 

"Since  he  would  not  sing,"  said  his  fair  admirer, 
"  would  he  take  a  seat  in  our  carriage  ?  There  was 
plenty  of  room,  only  papa  and  herself." 

But  Sir  Frederick  was  determined  on  a  moonlight  ride 
home. 

"  Is  there  a  moon  ?"  said  his  frank  companion. 

"Always,"  replied  Sir  Frederick,  rather  saucily,  and 
with  a  demonstration  of  changing  his  place,  which  sent 
the  young  lady  to  whisper  to  her  father. 

Lill  heard  Sir  Frederick  telling  some  one  who  was  re- 
proaching him  for  being  no  sportsn>an,  that  he  might  be 
back  for  the  hunting  season.  Everybody  was  shaking 
hands  with  her  at  once.     Would  they  never  go  ? 

"  Farewell,  Miss  Tufton,"  said  Frederick's  rich  musical 
voice. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  answered,  and  looked  straight  at 
him.  "  Remember  me,  if  you  please,  to  Lady  Ponsonby, 
and  to  your  brother  and  sister." 

They  shook  hands,  and  left  the  room  with  some  of  the 
other  guests.  Lill  remained  standing  in  the  same  place. 
She  fancied  she  was  watching  Sir  Mark's  very  tender 
parting  with  Altheniiah.  As  the  door  closed  on  the 
Pantons,  Sir  Mark  came  towards  Lill. 

"  AVhy,  how  tired  you  look  !"  he  exclaimed. 

"I  am  tired;  I  can  scarcely  stand." 

"AVhy  don't  you  sit  down,  then?"  and  Sir  Mark 
actually  wIiccUmI  forward  an  arm-chair  for  her. 

"I'll  go  to  bed,"  she  said,  turning  sharply  away,  that 
he  might  not  see  the  tears  that  rose  to  her  eyes.  The 
trifling  sympathy  shown  by  Sir  Mark  made  her  quite 
hysterical. 

Sir  Frederick  went  home  that  niglit  an  instance  of  the 
possibility  of  what  some  afTirm  often  happens;  that  of  a 
man  being  in  love  with  two  women  at  once. 

There  exists  a  great  dissolving  power  in  absence,  and 


CROSS   PURPOSES.  227 


a  very  creative  one  in  presence.  One  does  not  forfjet, 
but  the  clear  outlines  of  the  past  get  blurred  and  faint. 
Constancy  requires  to  be  cultivated  and  exercised,  just 
as  our  other  virtues  do,  by  self-denial  and  self-control. 

Sir  Frederick  Ponsonby  only  paid  a  flying  visit  to 
Paris ;  just  the  number  of  hours  requisite  to  refresh  his 
wardrobe  and  make  him  presentable  at  the  Bains  d' 
Am61ie. 

"  Pour  qui  veut  du  repos,  du  soleil,  up  air  pur, 
Le  86jour  d'Amelie  est  le  port  le  plus  sur." 

"Whether  repose,  sun  and  pure  air.  were  the  peculiar 
objects  of  Sir  Frederick's  journey  to  the  Canigou  k  Mon- 
tagne  des  Airs,  must  be  left  to  the  reader's  ])enetration. 
Lady  Ponsonby  and  Alicia  kindly  took  it  for  granted, 
that  after  having  been  subjected  to  the  damp  English 
climate.  Sir  Frederick  felt  the  necessity  of  a  course  of 
drying,  at  the  foot  of  the  Roche  d'Annibal. 

The  evening  before  Sir  Frederick  was  to  start  for  the 
Pyrenees,  Lady  Ponsonby,  believing  that  she  was  show- 
ing a  real  turn  for  diplomacy,  began  a  sort  of  cross-ex- 
amination of  her  son  about  his  fair  neighbours  at  Monk's 
Capel. 

"  Well,.  Fred.  I  have  been  half  expecting  some  confi- 
dences from  you." 

He  asked  of  what  kind. 

"The  only  one  usually  vouchsafed  by  men  to  their 
mothers, — an  intimation  that  at  some  period  or  other 
they  may  marry." 

"Does  it  disappoint  you,  mother,  that  I  have  no  such 
confession  to  make  ?" 

"  I  wonder  a  little,  considering  the  descriptions  you 
have  sent  me  of  the  girls  you  have  seen  so  much  of." 

"My  dear  mother,  I  dreamed  the  night  before  I  left 
England,  that  I  was  going  to  be  married,  and  I  awoke 
and  found  my  pillow  wet  with  my  tears." 

"  That  is  a  put-off,  and  not  an  answer  to  my  ques- 
tion." 

"You  shall  have  the  frankest  of  negatives  then,  No — 
T  have  not  the  slightest  idea  of  placing  my  heart  under 
the  despotism  of  Miss  Tufton  ;  nor  have  1  the  presump. 
tioQ  to  believe  it  would  be  accepted  " 


228  WHO  BREAKS-  "..TS. 

"I  see,  then,  that  Miss  Tuftoa  was  the  only  one  who 
sxcited  your  attention." 

"  Quite  true  :  Miss  Althemiah — " 

"  What  a  name  !"  ejaculated  Alicia. 

"Miss  Althemiah  was  excellent,  but  monotonous. 
Her  dear  little  sister  still  played  with  the  kitten.  The 
raembor's  daughter's  eyes  treated  me  with  the  most 
haughty  indifference." 

"That  will  do,"  said  Lady  Ponsonby,  laughing;  "I 
am  satisfied  you  have  returned  heart-whole." 

Sir  Frederick  for  all  answer,  shrugged  his  shoulders : 
he  was  most  hermetically  discreet. 

Lady  Ponsonby  retailed  the  above  conversation  with 
zest  to  Mr.  Giuliani.  Iler  anxiety  about  her  son  while 
he  was  in  Sir  Mark  Tufton's  neighborhood  had  been  re- 
vealed to  the  Italian  by  the  excess  other  precautions  to 
hide  it.  He  could  hardly  suppress  a  smile  at  the  nalvet6 
with  which  his  good  friend  believed  that  the  only  danger 
to  Lill's  constancy  lay  in  Sir  Frederick's  presence. 


LILL   BREAKS.  22& 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

Lill  Breaks. 

The  next  week  was  endless  to  Miss  Tiifton.  She 
would  go  out  with  the  intention  of  taking  a  long  walk 
or  ride,  and  return  tired  within  the  hour.  Everything 
wearied  her,  everything  annoyed  her  ;  the  least  noise  or 
movement  in  the  room  where  she  was,  made  her  nervous. 
Everybody  was  disagreeable  or  to  l)lame,  and  she  felt  a 
profound  disgust  for  life,  indeed,  for  humanity  in 
general. 

Miss  Crumpton  at  last  began  to  be  aware  that  some- 
thing was  amiss  with  Lill.  She  had  known  her  impa- 
tient and  passionate,  but  never  languid  and  listless  ;  had 
never  seen  her  occupied  for  hours  with  one  single  page 
of  a  book — for  the  leaf  was  never  turned,  that  the  cha- 
perone  could  vouch  for — still  less  had  Lill  ever  remained 
half  a  morning  with  her  hands  in  her  lap,  apparently 
watching  the  raindrops  on  the  window  running  into  one 
another.  Nor  was  it  only  w'hen  Miss  Crumpton  and  the 
young  lady  were  iite  a  tete  that  Lill  fell  into  these  fits 
of  absence.  In  the  evenings,  when  Sir  Mark  was  present, 
she  would  sit  motionless,  staring  at  the  lamp  or  the 
fire. 

Intense  thought  produced  this  longing  for  physical 
repose.  From  a  child  to  a  woman  she  had  had  a  cra- 
ving for  information  of  all  kinds,  but  Lill  had  never 
shown  any  reflective  faculty;  she  acquired — she  did  not 
originate.  The  present  call  upon  her  head  to  direct  her 
heart,  singularly  distressed  her.  She  was  confused  by  a 
mingling  of  sentiment  and  sensation.  But  for  her  en- 
tanglement with  Mr.  Giuliani,  she  would  not  have  been 
called  on  to  struggle  against  a  preferen(^e  for  Sir  Fred- 
ej-ick  Ponsonbj'.  It  was  the  necessity  for  the  struggle, 
the  difficulty  to  be  overcome,  which  fixed  his  image  in- 
delibly on  her  soul.  Difficulty  acts  on  some  natures  as 
a  magnet.  Otherwise,  the  probabilities  are,  that  Lill, 
with  her  sharp  perception  of  weaknesses,  her  high 
standard  of  worth,  would  have  sifted  Sir  Frederick, 
and  decided  that  the  gra^n  of  his  character  was  not 

20 


230  WHO  BREAKS — PATS. 

equal  to  his  external  merits.  As  it  was,  her  whole 
being,  heart,  soul,  mind,  were  engrossed  by  him.  Bhe 
must  suffer — might  die  (she  was  one  of  the  girls  who 
might  die  for  love),  but  it  was  one  of  those  terrible  pas- 
sions which  never  leave  their  victims  so  long  as  they  live. 

One  morning  Lill  was  roused  from  her  apathy  by  Miss 
Crumpton  laying  a  letter  silently  before  her.  The 
colour  and  shape  of  the  envelope  told  her  at  once  from 
whom  it  came.  The  sight  instantly  summoned  up  the 
recollection  of  a  lively  debate  she  had  had  with  Giuliani. 
She  averring  that  she  never  thought  or  spoke  of  people, 
but  they  were  sure  to  appear  in  person,  or  else  to  write  ; 
and  Giuliani  asking  her,  if  she  had  ever  noted  how  often 
such  a  concurrence  had  failed. 

"It  had  not  failed  now,"  thought  Lill,  as  she  opened 
his  letter ;  no,  nor  it  could  not  have  failed  for  many  a 
day  past ;  never  had  Giuliani  been  so  present  to  her 
spirit,  as  during  these  last  weeks. 

Giuliani  had  written  less  than  usual,  only  two  sides  of 
his  paper  were  covered.  There  were  neither  apologies 
nor  excuses  for  not  having  written  sooner.  Why  should 
any  one  condemn  himself  as  inattentive  or  idle  ?  or  re- 
sort to  so  stupid  a  manoeuvre  to  escape  the  effort  neces- 
sary to  find  sonietliing  worth  saving.  To  nive  a  reason 
for  unusual  silence  is  another  thing,  and  always  as  ac- 
ceptable as  excuses  are  un])alatalile. 

Giuliani  began  his  letter  much  in  the  same  way  he 
would  have  done  had  he  come  to  speak  to  Lill  by  word 
of  mouth,  instead  of  with  his  pen. 

'•You  will  smile,"  he  wrote,  "to  hear  that  my  letter 
is  prompted  by  a  dream.  We  moderns  scout  at  most 
things  that  were  reverenced  by  the  ancients,  just  as 
youths  quiz  the  counsels  of  gray-beards.  You  remember 
that  we  have  high  authority  for  believing  that  Avarninga 
are  sonu'tiines  sent  in  dreams. 

"  Jiast  night  1  drcanu'd  that  I  saw  you  in  a  church,  as- 
suredly a  clnircli  in  Itnly.  for  the  wunieu  with  which  it 
was  crowded  had  on  cillicr  the  ))ezzotto  or  the  mezzaro. 
Among  them  1  was  startled  by  seeing  you,  kneeling  on  a 
chair  as  ItaJiun  women  do.  You  also  wore  the  (ienoese 
Bcarf  over  yoiu-  head.  Astonisliing  the  distinctness  with 
which  1  heard  the  music,  it  was  that  of  a  military  masa 


LILL   BREAK8.  231 

As  I  gazed  at  you,  you  turned  and  saw  me.  The  first 
expression  of  your  face  was  that  of  terror,  the  next 
moment  you  stretched  your  hands  towards  me  with  a 
cry  for  help.     In  the  struggle  to  reach  you,  I  awoke. 

"  I  am  not  prone  to  superstition,  not  afraid  to  com- 
mence a  journey  on  a  Friday,  or  on  the  thirteenth  of  a 
month,  not  unwilling  to  sit  down  thirteen  to  table.  Still 
this  dream  has  been  the  deciding  cause  of  this  letter. 
Are  you  in  any  difficulty,  any  peril  ?  you  told  me  once, 
you  did  not  want  a  friendship  that  should  show  itself  but 
once  in  a  life,  like  coronation  trappings.  To  some,  never- 
theless, is  given  the  chance  of  proving  their  devotion 
but  once,  some  never  have  even  that  one  chance.  Do 
not  grudge  me  the  opportunity  if  it  occurs  ;  remember 
that  you  have  one  true  friend  willing  to  help  you.  Be 
your  trouble  what  it  may,  give  me  at  least  my  share  of  it. 

"Your  faithful 

"G.  G." 

Lill  read  this  letter,  revealing  a  constant  thought  of 
her,  revealing  love  with  all  love's  tender  superstitions, 
another  sort  of  superstition  from  the  one  disclaimed, 
and  saw  in  it,  what?  only  the  chance  of  an  escape. 
Strong  passion  seldom  sees  anything  beyond  or  above  its 
own  aims.  Lill,  so  generous  when  heart-whole,  so  sensi- 
tive to  inflicting  mortiflcation,  now  believed  this  letter 
to  be  nothing  less  than  an  interposition  of  Providence 
in  her  behalf. 

Unconsciously  cruel  as  a  woman  always  is,  when  she 
does  not  love  the  man  who  loves  her,  she  wrote  on  the 
spur  of  the  moment: — 

"Yes,  indeed,  Mr.  Giuliani;  I  do  believe  you  are  my 
sincere  friend,  the  truest  I  shall  ever  have.  I  have  been 
very  foolish,  very  erring ;  I  must  try  not  to  do  worse 
yet,  and  I  should  do  worse  if  I  deceived  you.  I  cannot 
expect  you  or  any  one  to  believe  me,  to  believe  that  I 
meant  well.  I  have  endeavoured,  indeed  1  have,  to  keep 
faith  with  \  on,  but  T  know  I  have  broken  it;  not  willing- 
ly, not  gaily  and  carelessly,  oh,  no!  indeed, — pray  believe 
that  at  least.  I  have  cried  out  for  help,  and  your  letter 
has  come  like  a  good  angel  to  guide  me ;  I  feel  as  if  it 
were  a  voice  from  heaven.  You  would  have  led  me 
right  long  ago,  but  I  did  wish  to  make  you   liappy 


232  WHC    BREAKS — PAYS 

I  see  I  was  very  stupid,  but  not  wicked,  not  intentionally 
so  ;  will  you  ever  forgive  ine  ?  I  am  sure  I  shall  never 
be  happy,  because  all  my  life  long  I  shall  remember  my 
fault  to  you.  I  will  always  pray  that  you  may  forget  me 
and  be  happy.  "Your  poor  pupil, 

"LiLL   TUFTON." 

She  hastily  gathered  together  every  scrap  she  had  of 
his  writing,  putting  them  into  the  same  envelope  with 
her  letter.  In  the  centre,  carefully  wrapped  in  silver 
paper,  was  the  ring  Giuliani  had  given  hor.  He  ha(? 
chosen  it  to  suit  her  fortunes,  not  his.  and  the  price  had 
entailed  on  him  manifold  privations.  "  .1  don't  want  to 
part  with  you,  poor  little  ring,  but  I  must,  though  it  will 
hurt  him  to  see  you  again,"  and  a  great  tear  fell  and 
dimmed  the  diamonds.  She  heard  again  the  fond,  foolish 
words  which  had  accompanied  the  gift.  "  Why  cannot 
I  love  him !"  she  exclaimed  with  a  great  gasp. 

She  ran  upstairs  for  her  bonnet ;  this  time  she  never 
thought  of  Miss  Crumpton  as  a  messenger.  When  she 
was  within  sight  of  AVavering,  she  stopped  ;  two^minutes 
more  and  the  letter  would  be  beyond  recall ;  her  heart 
heat  fearfully. 

At  this  crisis,  she  was  startled  by  John  Larke's  voice. 

"  Good-day,  Miss." 

"  Good-morning,  John,"  and  she  walked  on. 

"When  I  seed  you  a-coming  along  so  fast,  Miss,  says 
I  to  myself,  now  Miss  Tufton  be  a-going  to  the  post,  sure 
as  anything.  Every  one  do  have  a  way  of  hurrying  when 
they  be  bound  for  the  post." 

"  Because  they  be  generally  too  late,  John,"  said  Lill, 
trying  to  speak  calmly. 

"  I  expects  it's  just  that,  Miss.  Hurry  is  bad,  and  de- 
lay is  bad;  it's  a  precious  hard  job,  so  it  is,  to  find  out 
when  it's  the  right  time  for  one  or  t'  other.  Them 
Lon'on  architects  now,  1  ain't  for  finding  fault  with  'em, 
nor  with  Mr.  Langdcn  for  employing  of  'cm,  he  hadu't 
no  time  to  lose  to  get  his  work  done  afore  winter  set  in  ; 
but  bless  yon.  Miss  Tufton,  there  ain't  nothing  now  in 
that  house  that  (hm't  want  setting  to  rights." 

"I  suppose  you  are  to  do  that,"  said  I^ill  ;  guefisinff 
the  old  man's  wish,  that  she  should  understand  he  had 
been  working  at  Longlands. 


LILL    BREAKS.  233 

"  Why,  yes,  Miss  Mr.  Langden  and  me's  been  agree- 
ing about  a  heap  of  thinfrs.  Says  I,  Mr.  Langden,  sir, 
I  ain't  bv  no  means  a  quick  man  in  getting  through  jobs, 
—Mr.  Ashton  'II  tell  you  that.  I  likes  to  do  the  thing 
as  it  shan't  want  doing  again.  Shall  I  put  the  letter  in 
the  box  for  you,  Miss  ?" 

Lill  hurriedly  gave  him  her  packet ;  so  John  Larke 
completed  a  job  that  day,  which  certainly  would  not  re- 
quire doing  again. 

After  dinner,  when  they  were  alone,  Lill  said  to  Miss 
Cruinpton, 

"  You  have  your  wish  Crummie.  I  have  broken  with 
Mr.  Giuliani." 

Miss  Crumpton  laid  down  her  work. 

"  Don't  say  a  word  of  thankfulness,"  went  on  Lill,  "  or 
I  shall  hate  you  as  much  as  I  do  myself." 

She  got  up  and  walked  to  and  fro  in  the  room  several 
times,  then  stopped,  and  confronting  the  astonished 
chaperone,  said, — 

"  Christians  do  not  exult  in  the  pain  of  their  enemies, 
do  they  ?  Mr.  Giuliani  was  my  enemy  :  if  it  had  not 
been  for  him,  I  should  not  have  had  a  dark  speck  as  big 
as  a  pin  on  my  life :  but  still  I  don't  enjoy  paining  him. 
Why  didn't  you  do  your  duty,  Crummie,  and  tell  Sir 
Mark—" 

•'  My  dear,  you  begged  me  not." 

"  Would  you  stand  by  and  see  me  stab  mySelf  if  I 
begged  you  ?  let  me  throw  myself  over  a  precipice,  if  I" 
beoTcd  you  ?  When  one  is  mad  our  friends  are  bound  to 
take  care  of  us,  to  use  force  to  prevent  our  doing  our- 
selves harm." 

"  O  Lill !  I  am  not, — I  never  was, — able  to  guide  you. 
I  was  wrong  to  keep  a  situation  for  which  I  knew  my- 
self unfit.  I  was  not  clever  enough  for  you  ;"  and  Miss 
Crumpton  began  to  cry. 

The  secret  of  Lill's  power  of  inspiring  affection,  in 
spite  of  a  temper  variable  and  impetuous  as  the  wind, 
was,  that  she  redeemed  her  outbreaks  by  such  warm 
tenderness,  such  al)undant  repentance. 

"  Dear  Crmnmio  !"  she  now  exclaimed,  throwing  her 
arms  around  her  old  friend,  "  forgive  me,  I  am  naughty, 
because  I  am  unhajjpy.  Don't  look  so  pitiful,  Crummie, 
—you  break  my  heart." 

20* 


234  <V"HO  BREAKS PATS. 

Miss  Crumpton  stroked  the  fair  head  so  coaxinglj 
laid  ou  her  knee. 

"  Ah  !  poor  thing,  if  ever  any  one  was  born  to  break 
their  own  heart,  it  is  you  ;  always  such  a  tempest  of  a 
child." 

"  Pity  me,"  said  Lill ;  "  for  this  day,  I  have  cured  a 
wrong  action,  by  one  worse." 

This  state  of  mind  lasted  till  the  fifth  day,  when  she 
received  a  packet  from  Paris.  She  found  in  it  only  her 
own  letters — they  were  all  there,  even  to  the  note  asking 
for  lessons  :  yes.  even  the  very  note  of  invitation  she 
had  written  by  Valentine's  desire.  No  one  need  envy 
Lill's  sensations  when  she  took  up  these  bits  of  paper, 
BO  carefully  preserved.  In  the  faded  writing,  as  in  a 
magic  mirror,  she  saw  herself  the  saucy  beauty,  the 
eager  pupil ;  saw  tlie  kind  master,  the  anxious  friend — 
the  devoted  lover.  His  voice  was  in  her  ears  :  "  Pray 
God  take  that  sound  away."  She  did  not  faint,  but  she 
could  not  see — the  room  had  grown  dark,  and  always 
that  voice  close  to  her  ear. 

Miss  Crumpton,  who  had  herself  received  the  packet 
from  the  postman,  though  full  of  curiosity  to  know  the 
contents,  had  discreetly  left  Lill  alone  for  half  an  hour. 

Having  heard  that  the  best  way  of  recovering  persons 
from  a  stupor  of  grief  was  to  scold  them  heartily.  Miss 
Crumpton  no  sooner  saw  Lill's  state  than  she  began, — 

"  Come,  my  dear,  get  up  from  oif  the  floor ;  come, 
•Lill,  it's  not  nice  to  give  way  so,  particularly  about — 
hem  !  hem  ! — particularly  in  this  case." 

Lill  looked  at  her  with  burning  eyes,  tried  to  speak, 
but  her  throat  was  too  dry,  and  her  poor  lips  too 
parched.     Miss  ('riim])ton  raised  her  up. 

"You  had  better  go  and  lie  down,  my  dear :  let  me 
help  you." 

Lill  dragged  herself  wearily  along  by  Miss  Crumpton's 
arm,  went  u})  stairs  slowly,  and  lay  down  on  her  bed, 
without  a  word. 

"  Drink  some  water,  Lill." 

Miss  Crumpton  drew  down  the  blinds,  and  then 
bustled  away,  recollecting  the  letters  left  open  on  the 
table  in  the  niorninj;-  room.  As  i^]H\  gathered  them  to- 
gether she  mutt(>red,  "Fretting  about  a  man  she  doesn't 
care  a  pin  for  :  who  can  manage  girls  ?" 


ADiiiL.  235 


CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

Adieu. 

After  Giuliani  had  read  Lill's  letter,  he  came  to  a 
rapid  decision.  Paris  and  his  pupils  were  alike  hateful 
to  him. — he  would  leave  botli,  and  at  once.  He  had 
only  two  duties  to  perform  before  he  began  his  joarney. 
The  first  to  send  back  Miss  Tufton's  letters,  the  second 
to  bid  farewell  to  that  true  friend,  Valentine's  mother. 

His  interview  with  Lady  Ponsonby  had  much  in  it  of 
the  solemnity  of  a  death-bed  parting  ;  neither  of  the  two 
ever  expected  to  meet  again.  There  was  a  sincere  friend- 
ship between  them,  though  the  one  was  an  old  woman, 
and  the  other  a  young  man.  Giuliani  had  always  en- 
joyed Lady  Ponsonby's  cheerfullness,  as  much  as  her 
good  sense.  In  her  house  alone  and  in  her  society,  had 
he  felt  that  serenity  which  a  man  instinctively  seeks  and 
needs,  to  restore  the  e([uilibrium  of  his  faculties  after 
the  day's  struggle.  She,  on  her  side,  was  proud  of, 
even  grateful  for  his  respectful  attachment. 

He  gave  her  now  his  full  confidence,  ending  thus:  "I 
am  wearird  of  this  aimless  agitation  ;  wearied  of  forced 
tranquillity  :  my  soul  is  like  an  empty  boat  on  a  rough 
sea  ;  I  must  have  action,  I  cannot  remain  longer,  where 
everything  tends  to  enfeeble  my  dearest  convictions. 
The  atmosphere  of  Paris  stifles  me." 

"  Where  do  you  go  ?"  asked  Lady  Ponsonby. 

"  The  world  is  all  before  me  where  to  choose,"  he  re- 
plied. "  The  pope's  amnesty  would  allow  of  my  return- 
ing to  Bologna,  but  I  cannot  bend  my  will  to  the 
condition  of  signing  the  exacted  declaration.  No ;  I 
will  go  to  Piedmont;  there  it  is  where  our  national 
resurrection  will  begin  ;  already  the  dead  there  are 
lifting  their  gravestones.  I  must  conquer  this  unfortu- 
nate passion,  or  it  will  conquer  me.  1  have  done  with 
books  and  dreams.  I  am  going  to  live.  A  Dio,  cara 
arnica." 

"  A  Dio,  Giuliani." 

"  I  should  wish  to  shake  Miss  Ponsonby  by  the  hand 
before  I  go  " 


236  WHO    BRKAKS — PAYS. 

Lady  Ponsonby  said  she  would  find  her  daughter.  A 
great  fear  made  her  anxious  to  break  the"  news  of 
Giuliani's  immediate  departure  to  Alicia  without  wit- 
nesses. 

For  all  answer  to  her  mother's  sudden  information 
Alicia  joined  her  hands  together,  like  a  child  praying. 
Lady  Ponsonby  could  see  how  tremulous  the  tingera 
were — ^could  see  every  nerve  of  the  usually  calm  features 
working.  But  Alicia  had  been  brave  too  long — had 
too  long  governed  her  emotions  to  fail  now. 

"  One  moment,  mother,"  she  said. 

When  she  believed  herself  mistress  of  her  voice  and 
of  her  face.  Miss  Ponsonby  went  forward  to  meet  the 
great  anguish  of  her  innocent  life. 

Giuliani  hastened  towards  her;  the  touch  of  her 
clammy  cold  hand,  that  invincible  sign  of  inward  dis- 
turbance, and  the  vibrating  motion  of  her  head,  were 
not  in  accordance  with  the  firmly  spoken, — 

"  C'est  done  vrai,  qiCilfant  dire  adieu?" 

He  raised  the  hand  he  had  taken  to  his  lips ;  perhaps 
his  own  wretchedness  gave  him  an  insight  into  hers  ;  for 
as  he  looked  at  her,  his  eyes  filled  with  tears  :  perhaps 
he  understood  at  last  that'  happiness  had  been  so  close 
to  him,  that  he  had  overlooked  it. 

Farewell  was  finally  said,  and  he  was  at  the  door  when 
he  suddenly  turned  back,  and  again  taking  a  hand  of 
both  mother  and  daughter,  said  in  low  husky  tones, — 

"  I  have  a  legacy,  a  last  wish,  to  leave  wi'th  you,  dear 
friends.  Do  not  desert /if r,  poor  young  thing ;  life  is 
always  difficuli.  the  world  hard,  for  such  imjietuous,  un- 
calculating  natures."  'Die  knot  in  his  throat  uuule  his 
last  words  scarcely  audible.  "  Be  kind  to  her  for  my 
sake." 

"  I  will,"  was  solemnly  pronounced  by  Lady  Ponsonby 
nnd  Alicia. 

"Adieu,  adieu,  adieu." 


A    QUESTION    OF    BUYING    AND    SELLING.  237 

CHAPTER  XL. 

A  Question  of  Buying  and  Selling, 

Summer,  with  its  deep  greens  aud  luminous  skies, 
autumn,  with  its  purple  and  gold,  have  vanished ;  winter 
is  at  hand,  with  its  short  gray  days  and  its  long  nights ; 
no  more  walks  in  the  early  morning  to  watch  the  trans- 
parent mists  lifted  from  the  face  of  the  hills  ;  silent  now 
are  the  tender  harmonies,  absent  the  aromatic  scents, 
choice  gifts  of  the  dying  year. 

Upwards  of  two  months  have  elapsed  since  Lill  re- 
ceived back  her  letters  from  Mr.  Giuliani.  She  knows 
nothing  further  of  him.  nor  of  Sir  Frederick  Pousonby ; 
she  has  not  had  the  courage  to  write  to  Lady  Ponsonby ; 
nor  has  the  young  baronet's  name  dropped  from  the  lips 
of  any  of  the  Pantons,  who  might  have  been  expected 
to  have  had  news  of  him,  as  the  admiral  aud  colonel 
constantly  saw  Sir  Frederick's  tenant,  Fordham. 

Sir  Frederick  seemed  forgotten,  for  neither  did  Sir 
Mark  nor  Miss  Crumpton  ever  allude  to  him.  Lill  re- 
sented this  general  forgetfulness  of  one  who  had  been 
so  flatteringly  sought,  and  without  whose  company  none 
of  the  neighbours  had  appeared  to  consider  the  assem- 
bling themselves  together  worth  while.  She  learned  the 
disagreeable  lesson  then,  of  how  very  little  any  one  per- 
son is  missed,  of  how  very  soon  a  vacant  place  is  filled. 

Lill's  thoughts  did  not  dwell  constantly  and  with  co- 
herence on  Sir  Frederick ;  they  fluttered  about  the 
recoll"ction  of  him  with  a  distressing  confusion.  Oc- 
cupation, which  recpiired  any  exercise  of  intelligence, 
was  intolerable  to  her.  Music  sickened  her  ;  she  was  in 
that  sad  condition  when  an  inward  depression  showsf 
itself  in  outward  displeasure  against  every  one  and  every- 
thing. Everybody  was  wrong  or  disagreeable,  because 
her  soul  was  dull  and  heavy. 

This  was  the  moment  that  poor  Miss  Crumpton  chose 
to  enlighten  Lill  as  to  Sir  Mark's  attentions  to  Miss  Al- 
themiah  Panton. 

"  It  will  be  all  the  same  a  hundred  years  hence,  Crum- 
mie.     Whatever  is  to  be,  will  be  ;  so  don't  puzzle  your 


238  WHO   BREAKS — PAYS. 

poor  head  as  to  what  may  or  may  not  happen.  Hav'n't 
you  heard  that  men  are  the  sport  of  circumstance  ?  Fate 
will  overtake  us,  make  what  haste  we  will." 

It  was  just  before  Christmas  that  Sir  Mark  did  what 
he  had  never  done  before  in  his  life,  invited  Lill  into  his 
private  room.  Nor  was  the  irony  with  which  he  had  al- 
ways seasoned  his  intercourse  with  her,  and  which  had 
not  been  diminished  by  Mrs.  Townsend's  flight,  to  be 
traced  either  in  the  voice  or  words,  in  which  he  began 
the  interview.  On  the  contrary,  there  was  even  a  touch 
of  deference  in  his  manner. 

"  Surely  some  one  has  left  me  a  fortune,"  was  Lill's 
conjecture  as  she  took  a  seat. 

"  I  wish.  Miss  Tufton,  to  obtain  from  you  a  frank 
opinion  of  some  of  our  neighbours.  My  reasons  for  this 
shall  be  made  obvious  to  you  by  and  by.  Let  us  begin, 
for  instance,  with  Mr.  Geoffrey  Colfield.  What  do  you 
think  of  him,  seriously  speaking." 

"A  good  enough  person,  I  believe,  but  a  most  grotes- 
que fop." 

"  Short  and  graphic.     Well !  and  Mr.  Swainton  ?" 

"Very  amusing,  but  ill-natured,  and  without  self- 
respect,  or  delicacy  of  feeling." 

"  Capital !  and  Sir  Frederick  Ponsonby  ?" 

"  Vain  of  his  good  looks.  Thinks  himself  irresistible,  I 
should  say." 

Sir  Mark  rultbed  his  hands. 

"Now,  what  of  Mr.  Langden  ?" 

"  Oh  !  he  is  utterly  insignificant." 

"  Upon  my  word,  young  lady,  you  strike  hard.  I  won- 
der what  you  lliiiik  of  yourself." 

"  Not  so  badly  as  I  deserve,  Sir  Mark.  Nature  grants 
to  every  one  a  self-love  and  esteem  of  themselves  in 
inverse  pro])ortion  to  their  nu'rits." 

"  I  am  to  infer,  then,  tliat  with  or  without  reason,  ^^is3 
Tufton  thinks  herself  the  superior  t>f  these  gentlemen." 

"  Comparisons  are  odious  and  unfair,  Sir  Mark." 

The  old  gentleman  seemed  at  a  loss  how  to  proceed. 
When  he  spoke  again,  Lill  started,  as  if  slie  had  for- 
gotten his  being  there. 

"Miss  'I'uftoii,  perhaps  you  nuiy  change  yonr  opinion 
of  Mr.  Laugdcu,  when  1  tell  you  he  has  done  you  the 


A    QUESTION    OF    BUYING    AND    SELLING.  2'10 

honour   of  offering  you   his  hand  and   a   share   of  hia 
enormous  fortune." 

"  I  grant  the  half  of  his  prayer,  and  blow  the  rest 
away.  I  will  accept  the  share  of  his  fortune,  but  not  so 
much  as  the  little  finger  of  his  hand." 

"  You  are  pretty  and  young ;  use  your  time  for  being 
impertinent, — I  don't  prevent  you  ;  but  Miss  Tnfton,  re- 
member, before  it  is  too  late,  that  you  are  portionless." 

"  Am  I  ?"  said  Lill,  calmly. 

"  You  are  poor ;  Mr.  Langden  can  make  you  rich 
better  listen  to  reason.  Every  year  takes  away  from 
your  value.  You  won't  be  half  as  good-looking  next 
year  as  you  are  now.  I  don't  suspect  you  of  much  ro- 
mance. You  like  the  good  things  of  this  world,  and 
quite  right  too.  Langden  offers  princely  settlements. 
He  is  not  a  learned  man,  nor  a  man  of  birth,  but  what 
of  that?     Riches  will  get  an  entr6e  everywhere." 

"I  think  not,  Sir  Mark."  He  stared  at  her;  and  she 
added,  gravely,  "  not  into  heaven." 

"  Difficult,  Miss  Tufton,  if  you  please,  not  impossible  ; 
and  with  your  sharpness  you  will  be  able  to  turn  Lang- 
den  round  your  finger,  make  a  saint  of  him ; — he'll  be  a 
pup])et  in  your  hands." 

"Thank  you;  but  I  have  observed,  that  though  silly 
women  can  make  clever  men  do  what  they  like,  clever 
women  never  can  manage  foolish,  stupid  men.  I  will  not 
marry  Mr.  Langden,  Sir  Mark.  Do  believe  that  girls  are 
not  so  generally  to  be  bought,  as  it  suits  satirists  to  say." 

"  '^rhat's  the  fruit  of  your  experience,  eh  !" 

Lill  had  unconsciously  thrown  a  sop  to  Cerberus ;  ho 
was  thinking  of  Althemiah  Panton. 

"  Well,  your  own  folly  be  on  your  head  ;  but,  stop  a 
minute, — suppose  I  were  about  to  marry,  Miss  Tufton, 
would  that  change  your  decision  ?" 

"  Not  at  all ;  I  do  not  like  Mr.  Langden ;  I  cannot 
bear  him.  If  you  were  to  turn  me  out  of  doors,  that 
would  not  induce  me  to  walk  into  his  house.  I  will  have 
none  of  his  heart,  hands,  purse  or  lands,"  and  with  a  little 
half  curtsey  she  left  the  room. 

Miss  Crumpton  plied  Lill  so  well  with  questions  that 
she  was  soon  in  possession  of  the  fact  of  the  proposal 
and  the  refusal. 


240  WHO    BREAKS — FAYS. 

"Do  you  know,  Cruiumie,"  said  Lill,  "  Sir  Mark  wanted 
to  frighten  me  into  accepting  Mr.  Langden  by  a  threat 
of  marrying  himself  ?" 

"  My  dear.  I  did  my  best  to  make  you  observe  Sii 
Mark's  attentions  to  Althemiah  Pauton." 

Lill  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  My  dear,  I  heard  him  telling  her  the  other  evening 
when  he  was  praising  her  for  counting  so  well  at  picquet, 
that  she  was  the  first  woman  he  had  ever  met  who  under- 
stood that  two  and  two  only  did  make  four.  I  am  sure 
he  might  have  found  out  that  I  knew  as  much  long  ago, 
if  he  had  asked  me  to  play  with  him.  Miss  Panton  does 
so  smile  at  him,  Lill." 

"  She  smiles  at  everybody,"  said  Lill.  "  Oh,  Crummie, 
what  does  it  matter  to  anybody  but  the  people  them- 
selves  who  marries  who?"  And  that  was  all  the  interest 
Miss  Crumpton  could  get  Lill  to  take  inher  graudfuther's 
supposed  marriage. 


FENCINa.  241 


CHAPTER    XLI. 

Fencing. 

One  forenoon  of  the  new  year  1848,  when  the  drawing- 
room  at  the  Hall  was  full  of  morning  visitors,  Tail  suddenly 
sto])ped  short  in  what  she  was  saying,  and  bent  down 
her  head  in  the  attitude  of  one  striving  to  catch  some 
distant  sound.  The  next  instant  she  rose,  walked  some 
steps  towards  the  door,  then  turning  away  again,  took  a 
chair,  and  made  some  indistinct  remark  to  the  person 
nearest  to  her. 

The  moment  after  the  door  opened,  and  Sir  Frederick 
Ponsonby  was  announced. 

Lill  received  him  as  if  she  had  seen  him  the  day  be- 
fore. He  did  not  perceive — what  man  ever  does  ? — that 
her  fingers  trembled,  so  that  she  could  not  hold  up  the 
screen  she  had  seized,  under  pretence  that  the  fire 
scorched  her  face. 

While  Sir  Frederick  was  speaking  to  the  rest  of  the 
party,  all  of  them  his  acquaintances,  Lill  looked  at  him. 
and  saw  that  he  was  pale  and  thin,  like  one  recovering 
from  illness.  She  gathered  from  his  answers  to  various 
inquiries,  that  he  had  been  some  days  already  at  the  Pri- 
ory;  she  heard  him  talk  of  hunting,  as  if  that  had  been 
the  reason  of  his  return.  The  more  she  looked  at  him, 
the  more  certain  she  was  that  foxhounds  had  had  nothing 
to  do  with  his  coming  to  England,  and  she  felt  angry  that 
he  should  try  to  make  any  one  believe  it  had.  Then  her 
grandfather  came  in,  and  asked  him  to  stay  dinner ;  and 
Sir  Frederick  agreed,  without  any  pressing,  that  Black 
Prince  should  be  sent  to  the  stables. 

To  give  herself  an  air  of  indifference,  Lill  drew  out  of  a 
basket  some  long  neglected  piece  of  worsted  work ;  a  fash- 
ionable amusement  at  that  period.  Sir  Frederick  settled 
himself  comfortably  near  her,  and  began  forthwith  play- 
ing with  the  contents  of  her  workbox. 

"  You  did  not  show  any  surprise  at  seeing  me,  Miss 
Tufton."  21 


242  WHO    BREAKS — PAYS. 

"  I  was  not  more  surprised  at  your  coming  back  to 
England,  than  at  your  going  to  Paris.  1  have  reinarlced 
before  now,  that  whenever  people  are  not  compelled  by 
Bome  necessity  to  remain  in  one  place,  they  always  are 
restless.  I  should  myself  be  extremely  pleased  if  Sir 
Mark  would  take  a  fancy  to  go  to  Brighton  to-morrow." 

Sir  Frederick  accepted  tJiis  speech  in  silence  ;  he  did 
cot  doubt  she  intended  to  be  unkind.  The  next  moment 
Lill  was  consulting  him  about  the  particular  shade  of 
red  to  be  used  for  the  innermost  petal  of  a  damask-rose. 

"  How  are  Lady  Ponsonby  and  Miss  Ponsonby  ?" 

"  Quite  well,  thank  you." 

"  I  suppose  Paris  is  very  gay.  Were  you  often  at  the 
opera  ?  How  could  you  come  away  in  the  middle  of  the 
Carnival  ?" 

"  1  have  not  been  in  Paris.  I  merely  slept  one  night 
there  in  passing  through." 

"  Oh !" 

"  You  were  not  aware,  then,  that  I  went  to  the  Pyre- 
nees  ?" 

"  No,  indeed ;  but  I  was  struck  by  how  well  you  were 
looking  ;  the  air  of  the  Pyrenees  has  agreed  with  you, — 
it  does  with  everybody,  1  am  told," 

Miss  Crunipton  raised  ln-r  head. 

"What  nonsense  was  Lill  talking!  Any  one  with 
half  an  eye  might  see  that  Sir  Frederick  was  altered  for 
the  worse." 

Lill  took  good  care  to  meet  no  inquiring  glances ;  she 
■went  on : — 

"You  were  at  Biarritz,  of  course?  Did  you  make 
excursions  into  Spain?  How  did  you  like  riding  in  the 
Bayonne  cacvlcis .?" 

"  My  dear  girl,"  here  interposed  Miss  Crnmpton,  with 
her  usual  tact  "  you  don't  give  Sir  Frederick  time  to 
answer." 

"I  beg  Sir  Frederick's  pardon."  said  Lill,  gravely. 
"One  moment  more,  till  I  find  my  Idack  skein,  and  then 
I  shall  be  able  to  give  him  all  my  attention." 

"  I  have  not  been  to  Biarritz,  Miss  'J'ufton.  I  went 
to  the  Bains  d'Am61ie,  in  the  lOastern  Pyrenees." 

"  May  I  ask  what  they  are  famous  for,  Sir  Fred« 
crick  ?" 


FENCING.  243 

"For  tranquillity,  old  ladies,  and  sulphur,  1  believe, 
Miss  Tufton." 

"  Dear  me  I  I  never  before  guessed  your  tastes,  Sir 
Frederick." 

He  smiled,  and  went  on  to  describe  the  picturesque 
sconovy  of  the  banks  of  the  Mondoni,  and  of  the  vallej 
of  Moiitalba,  the  grandeur  of  Canigou  and  the  Koche  d' 
Auuibal.     No  winter  there,  always  summer. 

"Charming!  what  a  fascination  hunting  must  have, 
to  bring  you  to  this  Siberia  1  1  am  sure  you  must  wish 
yourself  back  again." 

He  said,  in  a  low  voice,— 

"  You  are  doing  your  best  to  make  me  understand 
you  wish  I  were  there,  or  at  Jericho — anywhere  but 
where  I  am." 

"You  are  quite  wrong,  Sir  Frederick.  I  am  as  glad 
as  any  other  of  your  acquaintances  to  see  you  again. 
The  sight  of  an  unaccustomed  face  is  reviving  in  this 
dull  place." 

Lill,  for  many  more  days,  made  fruitless  struggles 
to  impose  on  Sir  Frederick  the  belief  of  her  indili'ercncf 
towards  him.  She  deceived  herself  into  a  persuasion 
that  she  would  willingly  accomplish  any  penance  which 
could  cure  her  of  her  love  for  him.  She  could  give  no 
clear  reason  for  the  secret  spite  she  nourished  against 
him.  She  was  not  frank  with  herself,  would  not  examine 
into  a  certain  mental  reservation  which  embittei-ed  all 
her  feelings  towards  him,  and  made  her  almost  savage 
to  him,  if  he  uttered  a  word  expressive  of  interest  in 
her.  Had  she  forced  herself  to  confess,  she  would  have 
understood  that  it  was  not  remorse  for  her  conduct  to 
Giuliani  which  influenced  her,  but  that  she  was  suspicious 
Sir  Frederick  had  discovered  her  affection  for  him,  even 
while  he  loved  some  one  else.  Loved  some  other  !  What 
else  could  be  the  meaning  of  that  sudden  journey  to  the 
Pyrenees,  his  haggard  appearance,  and  those  letters  to 
France,  of  which  she  had  never  thought  till  lately? 
Could  she  have  more,  circumstantial  evidence  against 
him  ?  No,  poor  Lill !  rather  against  yourself.  Yet 
whenever  she  had  succeeded  in  mortifying  or  wounding 
Sir  Frederick  by  some  careless  or  cruel  word  or  act,  she 


244  WHO    BREAKS — PAYS. 

would  heap  the  most  violent  reproaches  on  herself,  con- 
demn herself  as  mean  and  ungenerous,  and  exalt  him  as 
high  as  she  lowered  herself 

After  one  of  these  occasions.  Sir  Frederick  remained 
away  from  the  hall  much  longer  than  he  had  ever  done 
before.  "  So  much  the  better  for  me,"  thought  Lill. 
Every  night  her  pillow  could  have  told  how  bitterly  she 
^rept  her  supposed  success. 


AIRY,    FAIRY   LILIAN.  245 


CHAPTER    XLII. 

Airy,    Fairy  Lilian. 

Thkre  was  an  artificial  lal^e  in  Waveritifr  Park,  with 
a  drive  round  it.  The  older  folks  in  the  village  remem- 
bered the  "grand  madam,"  as  Sir  Mark's  predecessor's 
wife  had  been  always  called,  driving  her  phaeton  with 
the  cream-coloured  ponies  there,  when  she  happened  to 
be  at  the  hall ;  and  gay  parties  rowing  or  sailing  on  the 
lake.  Road,  and  boats,  and  lake,  were  now  solitary  and 
neglected.  Jn  sununer,  rustling  green  flags  stretched 
into  the  water,  and  broad  leaves  with  golden  balls  hid 
its  surface  No  noises  there  now,  but  the  plash  of  leap- 
ing fish,  the  dabbling  of  the  coot's  bill,  and  now  and  then 
the  hurried  note  of  the  sedge  warbler. 

An  old  deep-bayed  quarry  was  at  the  north  end  of  the 
lake,  famous  in  the  season  among  the  school-children  for 
the  blackberries  which  grew  at  its  base. 

On  one  of  the  last  days  of  February  in  1848  Lill  took 
shelter  in  one  of  the  nooks  of  this  quarry  from  a  sudden 
heavy  shower  of  mingled  sleet  and  rain. 

The  news  of  the  revolution  in  Paris  had  reached  her. 
She  had  hoped  Sir  Frederick  would  have  forgiven  her 
last  unkind  rebuff,  and  come  over  to  give  her  news  of 
his  family.  She  tried  to  induce  Sir  Mark  to  ride  over 
to  the  Priory,  but,  seeing  how  much  she  wished  it,  he 
took  an  obstinate  fit  and  rode  the  contrary  way.  When 
the  28th  of  the  month  came,  and  no  Sir  Frederick.  Lill 
made  certain  that,  uneasy  about  his  mother,  he  must 
have  himself  gone  to  Paris  ;  she  might  never  see  him 
again  :  she  wished  she  had  sent  him  a  note  ;  there  could 
have  been  no  harm  in  showing  anxiety  for  Lady  Pon- 
sonby;  he  could  not  have  misconstrued  anything  so 
natural.  On  second  thoughts  she  would  go  to  Vale 
House  ;  she  could  not  fail  to  hear  there,  if  he  had  left 
the  Priory. 

Indifferent  to  menacing  clouds,  Lill  set  off.  going  by 
the  lake  :  that  way  being  half  a  mile  shorter  than  by  the 
road.      She  had  walked  on  notwithstanding   a  drizzle, 

21* 


246  WHO    BREAKS-     PAYS. 

and  only  stopped  when  the  rain  began  to  fall  in  heavy 
earnest.  She  had  not  long  taken  shelter  when  she 
heard  the  trot  of  a  horse.  She  thought  she  recognized 
the  particular  sound  of  those  hoofs  ;  she  turned  white 
and  red  with  fear  and  hope.  Sir  Frederick  had  almost 
passed  when  some  involuntary  movement  of  hers  made 
him  glance  to  the  side. 

"  Miss  Tufton !"  he  exclaimed.  She  was  frightened 
at  the  joy  the  sight  of  him  gave  her.  "  Can  I  not  help 
you  ?"  he  asked,  dismovinting  and  hanging  his  bridle  on 
the  branch  of  a  birch.  "You  are  getting  quite  wet," 
and,  drawing  off  his  waterproof  cloak,  he  wrapped  it 
round  her  in  spite  of  her  refusal.  "  I  can't  help  you  out 
of  the  scrape,  but  I  can  share  it  with  you ;  in  ten 
minutes  the  worst  will  be  over :  it  is  clearing  to  wind- 
ward." 

He  placed  himself  so  as  to  protect  her  from  the  wind, 
saying,  as  his  eyes  rested  on  her  delicate  face  and  figure, 
"What  brought  you  out  in  such  weather?  it  is  surely 
imprudent." 

"  I  am  a  country  girl ;  I  don't  mind  a  wetting,"  she 
replied,  hastily.  "  Have  you  heard  from  Lady  Pon- 
sonby  ?" 

"  I  was  on  my  way  to  the  hall  to  tell  you  that  I  had 
received  excellent  news  from  herself.  1  ran  up  to  Lon- 
don with  the  intention  of  going  across,  but  the  business 
was  all  over,  and  my  prosenco,  considering  my  horrible 
political  tendencies,"  he  looked  into  her  eyes,  "would 
have  thrown  a  drop  of  gall  into  my  dear  mother's  cup 
of  joy.  Poor  mother!  she  believes  in  republicans,  and 
writes  as  though  she  were  in  the  seventh  heaven." 

Lill  had  spirit  enouuh  left  to  say, — 

"  You  can  afford  to  he  generous.  You  have  had  your 
wish  granted.     Louis  Philippe  has  lost  his  crown." 

"You  don't  forget  easily."  he  said. 

Then  they  were  both  silent;  the  wind  ])laying  sad 
tricks  with  Ijill's  hair,  blinding  Sir  Frederick's  eyes 
with  it,  and  sending  it  across  his  mouth,  an<l  she  could 
do  nothing  to  prevent  it,  for  he  had  imprisoned  her, 
arms  ;ind  all,  within  his  cloak,  which  he  held  ('loscd 
round  her  with  one  hand.  Once  he  raised  the  hand  that 
be  had    at  liberty,   not    to  pui   away  the  long  flowing 


LILIAN.  241 

curls ;  on  the  contrary,  it  was  to  hold  thorn  against  his 
lips.  Lill  bent  down  her  face,  to  hide  from  him  the  deep 
flush  of  consciousness  which  covered  it. 

"  Miss  Tufton,  I  have  something:  to  tell  you,"  he  said. 
Her  heart  flew  into  her  throat,  and  she  made  a  sudden 
movement  of  flight.  "No,  you  cannot  go  yet;  it  still 
rains  heavily.  Do  you  know,  I  have  just  discovered 
that  this  is  the  very  scene  of  an  adventure  that  happened 
to  me  some  years  ago?  I  don't  believe  my  life  would 
be  safe  with  Sir  Mark,  did  he  find  it  out.  I  scarcely 
know  if  I  should  disclose  it  even  to  you." 
Kelieved,  yet  disappointed,  Lill  answered  : 
"  You  have  said  so  much,  you  must  say  more." 
"Do  you  know  that  we  are  very  old  acquaintances?" 
be  said.  "  Once,  you  were  very  much  kinder  to  me  than 
you  are  now,  Look  back  in  your  memory,  or  rather  I 
will  tell  you  a  tale  that  will  make  you  remember.  Once 
upon  a  time,  there  was  a  cruel  rich  man,  and  he  lived  in 
an  island  whose  inhabitants  hate  oppression  and  cruelty 
in  every  shape.  But,  nevertheless — in  the  island  I  mean 
— every  man  may  have  a  slave — a  woman — who  is  called 
the  slave  of  the  ring,  because  the  condition  on  which  he 
may  have  her  is,  that  lie  gives  her  a  gold  ring.  'J'he 
man  I  am  telling  you  of  bought  such  a  slave.  One  day, 
the  tyrant  and  his  slave  came  to  just  such  a  place  as 
this,  accompanied  by  a  lovely  little  fairy  some  good 
Genie  had  sent  to  comfort  the  slave  of  the  ring.  It  was 
a  fine  autumn  day,  when  ripe  blackberries  covered  the 
bramble-bushes  ;  and  the  slave  was  tempted,  and  stayed 
behind  her  master  to  pick  some.  The  master  turned 
round  and  struck  her  with  his  walking-stick.  Poor  little 
fairy  did  what  she  could  to  help,  screamed  with  all  her 
might,  and  her  cries  brought  to  the  spot  a  great  rough 
boy." 

"  Oh  1  was  it  you — was  it  you  ?"  cried  Lill,  her  heart 
in  her  eyes.  ''  Oh  1  now  I  know  why  I  loved  Lady  Fon- 
souby  from  the  first  moment  I  saw  her.  Poor  grand- 
mamma !  she  gave  me  The  Seven  Champi'uns  and  we 
called  the  boy  St.  George." 

What  a  rapturous  gratitude  there  was  in  the  beautifu' 
eyes  fi.xed  on  him  !  He  seized  her  hand,  and  said,  impe- 
tuously,— 


248  WHO    BREAKS — PATS. 

"  But  ray  story  is  not  done.  The  fairy  kissed  my  hand, 
and  promised  to  love  me  all  her  life.  Lill,  will  you  keep 
that  promise  ?" 

No  answer ;  he  laid  the  hand  he  held  upon  his  open 
palm,  and  askad  in  a  whisper — his  face  on  a  level  with 
hers,  his  breath  among  her  curls, — 

"A  gift,  a  frank  gift  ?" 

The  small  fingers  pressed  themselves  closer  to  his. 

"  Look  at  me,  Lill."     She  shook  her  head. 

He  gently  lifted  the  drooping  face,  and  saw  a  tear  on 
either  cheek. 

"  The  last  I  will  ever  make  you  shed,  Lill ;  my  pearl 
of  beauty.     Your  eyes — let  me  see  your  eyes." 

She  looked  up  at  last.  When  she  turned  her  glance 
from  him,  what  a  heavenly  world  she  saw  before  her  ! 
The  rain  had  ceased,  the  sun  had  pierced  the  clouds,  and 
the  bow  of  promise  spanned  the  space  between  heaven 
and  earth. 

"  A  good  omen,"  said  Sir  Frederick.  He  lifted  her 
into  his  saddle  and  walked  by  her  side,  Black  Prince  be- 
having with  most  perfect  decorum. 

When  Sir  Frederick  rose  that  February  morning,  he 
had  had  no  formed  intention  of  making  a  proposal  of 
marriage  to  Miss  Tufton.  He  had  been  led  on  partly  by 
previous  circumstances,  partly  by  the  feeling  of  the 
moment.  As  Lill  had  said  to  Miss  Crumpton.  "Fate 
will  overtake  us."  Are  not  two-thirds,  at  least,  of  our 
actions  the  result  of  circumstances?  Is  it  not  even 
generous  measure  to  allot  one-third  as  the  fruit  of  previ- 
ous firm  resolve  ?  Never,  however,  had  a  man  more  as- 
surances of  having  done  exactly  what  he  ouglit  to  have 
done  than  Sir  Frederick.  To  say  nothing  of  Sir  Mark's 
gracious  consent,  the  whole  neighbourhood  was  unani- 
mous in  approbation.  Not  that  an  overpowering 
majority  in  our  favour  is  always  a  proof  of  our  Iteingin 
the  right,  any  more  tlran  success  is  always  a  measure  of 
merit.  Many  reasons  produced  this  toucliing  unanimity. 
Sir  Frederick's  birth  and  Miss  'I'ufton's  were  on  an 
equality;  that  was  doing  tiieir  duty  in  the  class  in  which 
il  liad  j)]eas{>d  Providi^ice  to  plac'(>  th(>ni  :  tliough  llin 
beauty  of  the  county  made  no  misalliance,  she  yet  had 
not  achieved  any  mortifying  triumph.     Sir  Frederick 


AIRT,    FAIKT    LILIAN,  249 

(hough  handsome  and  accomplished  as  a  Crichton,  was 
not  a  man  of  fortune,  and  his  bride,  a  treasure  in  her- 
self, bad  no  other  treasure  to  bestow ;  so  that,  altooether, 
it  was  a  most  suitable  match,  and  created  no  envy;  on 
the  contrary,  there  was  plenty  of  room  ^o  wonder  how 
two  such  elegant  persons  meant — unless  Sir  Frederick 
went  back  to  India,  and  got  a  staff  appointment — to  ex- 
ist on  an  income  under  a  thousand  a  year.  Everybody 
was  pleased. 

Congratulations  arrived  in  person,  and  by  post,  and 
presents  were  not  slow  in  appearing.  Lill  received  a 
kind  letter  from  Lady  Ponsonby;  much  kinder  than  she 
had  dared  to  hope  for.  Sir  Frederick  was  not  so  well 
satisfied  with  the  one  addressed  to  himself.  He  wanted 
every  one  to  assure  him  he  was  the  happiest  man  in  the 
world  ;  and  his  mother's  letter,  though  full  of  kind  wishes, 
was  sparing  in  congratulations.  Of  course  Sir  Frederick 
imagined  that  Lady  Ponsonby  was  not  free  from  that 
jealousy,  which  all  mothers  are  accused  of  feeling,  with 
respect  to  the  marriage  of  their  sons. 

"  I  wonder  if  it  is  all  real  happiness,  or  if  it  is  only 
a  dream  ?"  said  Lill  to  Miss  Crumpton,  one  night  when 
she  was  going  to  bed.  "  I  shouldn't  be  a  bit  surprised, 
if  somctliing  dreadful  were  to  happen,  to  put  an  end  to 
it  all.  A  murder,  or  a  fire,  or  Sir  Frederick  turn  out  to 
be  married,  like  Mr.  Rochester.  Now,  Crummie,  don't 
look  as  if  you  didn't  know  who  Mr.  Rochester  is." 

"I  don't,  indeed,  Lill." 

"Jane  p]yre's  Mr.  Rochester.  If  I  had  been  Jane 
Eyre,  I  would  have  killed  him." 

"  I\ly  dear  girl,  what's  the  use  of  agitating  yourself?" 
for  Lill's  face  was  as  white  as  paper. 

"  I  would  forgive  anything  but  being  deceived,"  went 
OD  Lill.     "  No,  I  never  could  nor  would  forgive  that." 

"There's  no  deceit  about  Sir  Frederick,"  said  Miss 
Crumpton.     "  ITis  eyes  are  as  clear  as  day." 

"So  they  are,  dear  old  woman,"  exchumed  Lill,  kiss- 
ing Miss  Crumpton.  "I  don't  deserve  to  be  so  happy, 
— do  I,  Crummie  ?  I  don't  deserve  him.  I  have  told 
him  the  whole  story  about  Mr.  Giuliani ;  he  was  so  good 
about  it ;  I  could  not  be  easy  till  he  knew  it.  AVe  are 
never,  never  to  have  a  secret  from  one  another." 


^f'O  WHO  BREAKS — PATS. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

The  End  of  the  Beginning. 

One  unclouded  day  of  bliss  followed  another,  until  at 
last  Sir  Frederick  pressed  Lill  to  fix  her  wedding  day. 

"  Why  did  he  want  a  ©■hange  ?  AVere  they  not  per- 
fectly happy?  Why  could  he  not  let  well  alone?"  this 
was  the  first  answer  he  received. 

"  Lill,  my  darling,  your  promise  was  to  marry  me,  not 
to  remain  my  betrothed." 

"  Ah,  yes  ;  but  you  were  not  thinking  yesterday  of  our 
being  married ;  J  am  certain  you  were  not." 

"  I  have  thought  of  nothing  else  for  the  last  month." 

'•You  said  it  would  take  more  than  six  months  to  make 
the  Priory  habitable." 

"So  it  will.  The  repairs  can  go  on  while  we  are  in 
Switzerland.  I  have  never  seen  the  Alps,  and  my  desire 
is  to  see  them  for  the  first  time  in  your  company.  For- 
tunately there  is  no  displacing  of  the  monarch  of  moun- 
tains contemplated." 

'•  It  is  very  early  to  go  to  Switzerland.  June  is  soon 
enough." 

"  Let  us  divide  the  difference,  and  say  May." 

"May!  not  for  the  treasures  of  the  world.  Are  you 
not  aware  that  May  is  the  unfortunate  marriage  month? 
Mary  Stuart  married  Uothwell  in  May." 
■  After  a  long  debate  Sir  Frederick  carried  his  point, 
and  the  twenty-third  of  April  was  fixed  for  the  marriage. 
During  the  week  previous  Lill  would  have  tried  the 
patience  of  an  angel,  and  yet  Sir  Frederick  never  lost 
his  ;  but  bis  spirits  were  evidently  depressed. 

Altliemiah  Panlon  was  to  be  the  principal  bridesmaid, 
and  little  Jiosy  Asliton  the  second.  By  the  way.  Dolly 
I'aiilon  IkhI  been  sent  away  to  school,  by  her  own  desire, 
innneiliately  after  the  beginning  of  the  year.  She  had 
tak(!n  leave  of  Lill  Tnftou  without  kissing  her,  and  on 
till'  night  before  she  went  away  burned  her  diary. 

AlllicMiiiili,  who  was  slaying  at  the  hall  to  'perform 
some  of  the  onerous  duties  of  a  bridesmaid,  ventured  t( 


THE   END    OF    TUE   BEGINNING.  251 

take  the  initiative  for  the  first  time  since  the  could 
spealv,  and  remonstrated  with  Lill  on  her  behaviour  to 
Sir  Frederick;  it  was  not  respectful,  etc. 

"Suppose  I  don't  respect  him — don't  care  for  him?" 
said  liill. 

"  The  day  before  you  are  to  marry  him  Is  too  late  to 
find  that  out,"  replied  AUhemiah. 

"  Too  late? — not  at  all.  1  hear  his  step  on  the  stairs  ; 
I'll  tell  him  so  before  you." 

Aithemiah  fled. 

Sir  Frederick  had  come  prepared  to  find  Lill  agitated; 
tender  thoughts  were  in  his  heart,  tender  words  on  his 
lips  :  he  was  quite  bewildered  by  the  mocking  gaiety  of 
the  pair  of  eyes  she  fixed  on  him.  He  was  puzzled 
what  to  do  or  say  :  that  which  he  had  come  to  speak 
would  never  suit  her  present  mood.  He  watched  her 
uneasily ;  her  gaiety,  fictitious  he  was  sure,  affected  him 
more  painfully  than  the  deepest  melancholy  would  have 
done. 

"You  have  no  fears,  no  an.xiety  for  the  future,  Lill — 
have  you?"  he  asked,  taking  both  her  hands  in  his. 

"Afraid  of  the  future  ?  How  can  I  be  afraid  of  what 
does  not  exist  ?" 

"You  quaint  poetical  child." 

"  But  it  is  not  original,  you  know,"  she  said,  with  a 
defiant  smile — one  of  those  he  called  mysterious.  "I 
borrowed  it  for  the  occasion." 

••  Will  you  come  out  and  take  a  walk  with  me  ?  Come 
out,  poor  pet,  it  is  a  day  that  makes  mere  existence  a 
happiness." 

"J  don't  wish  to  be  happy  to-day.  You  do  not  under- 
stand me  at  all,  if  you  do  not  feel  that  I  must  be  sorry — • 
sorry  is  not  the  word — wretched,  to  break  away  as  I  am 
doing  from  everybody  and  thing  1  have  known  from  my 
birth,  for  the  sake  of  a  stranger." 

"You  do  not  love  me,  Lill,"  he  said,  sorrowfuliy. 

"No,  I  think  1  hate  you." 

He  turned  pale.  She  looked  long  at  him,  and  gradually 
the  proud  mocking  spirit  that  had  been  peering  through 
her  eyes  vanished.  She  went  up  to  him  with  quivering 
lips. 


252  WHO  BREAKS PATS. 

"  Frederick,  1  don't  know  what  is  the  nvatter  with  me. 
I  cannot  help  being  unkind  to  you;  but  I — I  couldn'* 
beax  you  to  be  away  from  me." 

Sir  Frederick  led  her  to  the  chimney-piece,  and  hold- 
ing both  her  hands,  so  as  to  prevent  her  escape,  he  rang 
the  bell. 

When  the  servant  came,  he  desired  that  Miss  Tufton's 
maid  should  bring  her  mistress's  walking  dress.  He 
took  the  mantle  from  Ruth,  and  himself  placed  in  on 
Lill's  shoulders. 

"  I  am  not  your  property  yet,"  she  said,  drawing  back. 

"Now  for  the  hat,"  he  went  on;  "and  the  goloshes," 
and  kneeling  down  he  drew  them,  as  he  spoke,  over  her 
shoes  ;  then  putting  her  arm  within  his,  opened  the  glass 
door,  and  led  her.  reluctant  but  submissive,  down  the 
steps  into  the  garden. 

"  >J  ow  then,"  he  said,  "  we  will  go  to  the  lake  ;  there 
was  the  beginning  of  the  happiest  time  of  my  life,  and  it 
shall  end  there  also  if  it  be  true  that  you  hate  me." 

He  led  her  along  as  tenderly  as  though  she  had  been 
a  little  child,  careful  that  her  foot  should  touch  no  stone, 
nor  rough  place.  The  air  was  piercing,  but  a  sun  of 
gold  gilded  the  lake — the  banks  were  covered  with  prim- 
roses. He  drew  a  long  breatli  of  enjoyment,  and  pressed 
the  hand  lying  on  his  arm  closer  to  his  side. 

"  Talk  of  an  end  !"  he  said.  "  No,  no  sweet  one,  I 
have  you,  and  I  shall  not  let  you  escape  me.  1  will 
make  you  believe  in  love."  lie  stooped  to  obtain  a 
sight  of  her  face.  "  (iood  heavens  !  how  beautiful  you 
are,"  he  added,  passionately. 

"  Is  that  why  you  care  for  me  ?"  she  asked. 

"  She  calls  it  caring  for  her,  and  I  have  given  her  my 
life." 

It  was  not  the  words,  but  the  intleetions  of  his  voice, 
the  expression  of  his  eyes,  that  made  lier  heart  beat  to 
sufTocation.  At  that  moment  she  believed  fully  and 
Cduddently  that  he  loved  lier.  Alaiincd  at  her  own 
emotion,  she  tried  to  answer  liim  playl'ully, — 

"When  1  am  old  and  wrinkled — will  you  love  mo 
then  V" 

"  I  shall  see  no  change,  you  will  be  Lill,  my  own  Lill, 
for  me." 


THE    END    OF    THE    BEQINNINO.  253 

"And  (1(;  you  really  lovo  ine  well  enough,  never  to  ask 
aie  to  smile  when  1  want  to  cry,  or  to  sing  and  dance, 
when  J  am  sad  ?" 

"  O  one  of  little  faith  !  but  queslion  for  question  ;  Lill, 
do  you  love  me,  or  hate  me  ?" 

Up  from  her  heart  came  the  answer,  "  I  love  you  :"  it 
trembled  on  her  lip,  but  to  say  it  was  impossible. 

"  Can  you  not  say  '  I  love  you  ?'  I  have  never  heard 
you  pronounce  tliose  three  blessed  syllables." 

"Time  will  show,"  she  whispered,  slipping  her  hand 
into  his,  and  not  denying  him  the  sight  of  her  loving 
eyes.  It  was  one  of  those  moments  for  both  neither  man 
nor  woman  ever  forgets,  let  life  be  ever  so  long,  or  s-o 
smooth,  or  so  troubled. 

They  were  opposite  the  quarry — he  loosened  his  hold 
of  her  hand  to  take  her  in  his  arms,  but  she  sprang  away 
from  him,  up  the  steep  grassy  path  at  the  side.  She 
was  out  of  sight  in  an  instant. 

"  Good-bye,  good-bye,"  came  floating  through  the  air 

"  Till  to-morrow,"  he  called  to  her.  "  Strange,  fantas 
tic  girl !"  he  muttered;  "but  she  is  no  coquette." 

Excepting  Sir  Mark's  private  rooms,  there  was  not 
one  in  the  Hall  which  Lill  did  not  visit  that  afternoon. 
She  spent  some  time  in  what  had  been  her  schoolroom, 
taking  down  from  the  dusty  shelves  one  book  after 
another.  In  most  of  them  was  scrawled  in  pencil  or  ink, 
"  Lilian,  surnamed  Espifegle,"  amid  devices  of  fabulous 
animals,  such  as  flying  serpents  or  owls'  heads  on  men's 
bodies  astride  a  winged  globe.  Plenty  of  caricatures, 
too,  on  the  fly-leaves  ;  sufficient  signs  everywhere  to 
prove  that  the  name  of  Espifegle  had  been  thoroughly 
deserved.  No  one  in  the  house  or  out  of  the  house  had 
been  spared,  but  Lady  Tufton.  Under  several  of  the 
figures  meant  for  the  tall  governess,  was  written  "Juno  " 

"  I  am  sure  she  wouldn't  call  me  Espifegle  if  she  saw 
me  now."  thought  Lill.  "  I  feel  as  tame  as  a  barn-door 
fowl.  Mow  I  used  to  tease  and  terrify  her  with  my  am- 
bitions !  I  fancy,  I  hear  her  sonorous  voice  repeating 
over  and  over  again,  'You  have  no  judgment  to  guide 
your  talents  or  your  good  impulses.  Patience  is  genius.' 
Poor  J  uno  !  I  wonder  where  you  are.     I  should  be  glad 

1-2 


2n4 


WHO    BREAKS — PAYS. 


to  send  you  cake  and  wodding  cards,  and  receive  a  ]vMei 
of  adrice  from  you,  full  of  concealed  pity  for  Sir  Fred 
erick." 

Other  chambers  also  were  visited  by  Lill.  franoht 
with  too  sacred  remembrances  to  be  mentioned  here; 
out  of  those  rooms  she  came  with  reddened  eyes. 

"Wlien  liijl  went  into  the  drawins-room  "before  din- 
ner, she  found  there,  besides  Sir  Mark,  Miss  Crump- 
ton  and  Althemiah,  Mrs,  Tufton,  her  son  Edward,  and 
Sir  Mark's  man  of  business  from  London,  with  the  settle- 
ments. 

Mrs.  Tufton  was  a  little,  lively,  elderly  lady,  who 
never  fai]e(^  to  let  strangers  know  she  had  been  very 
pretty  in  he^  youth.  She  did  so  very  ingeniously,  by  re- 
peatin<r  that  she  had  been  told  she  was  like  some  picture 
by  Sir  Joshua  ;  or  had  been  mistaken  for  Miss  O'Neil, 
or  some  other  celebrity.  Her  present  claim  to  notice 
was  her  knowledge  of  the  genealogy,  and  the  past  and 
present  intermarriages  of  tlie  landed  gentry  of  England. 
She  did  not  meddle  with  Scotland. 

She  was  already  at  work  informing  the  solicitor  who 
Sir  Frederick  Ponsonby's  grandfather  and  grandmother 
were  on  the  maternal  side,  and  whom  his  paternal  great 
aunts  and  their  sons  and  daughters  had  married.  Sho 
was  saying  as  Lill  entered,  "^'Curious  thing!  but  the 
baronetcy  has  never  descended  from  fixthcr  to  son,  but 
to  some  collateral  relation."  Mrs.  Tufton  liked  to  talk 
legally,  as  she  termed  it. 

P^dward  Tufton  had  been  ordained  since  he  and  Lill 
had  parted,  and  on  the  following  morning  was  to  appear 
in  his  beautiful  new  surplice,  as  Mr.  Asiilon's  assistant 
in  marrying  Miss  Tufton  to  Sir  Frederick  Poiisonby. 
Edward  was  dignified  and  reserved  in  manner;  his  waist- 
coat peculiarly  shaped,  and  the  collars  of  his  shirt 
almost  nothing. 

He  informed  Lill  that  Valentine  Ponsonby  liad 
travelled  down  from  London,  in  the  same  carriage  with 
himself  iind  Mrs.  Tufton. 

"  He  is  to  be  Sir  Frederick's  best  man,  he  told  me. 
Do  you  take  the  same  interest  in  revolutions  and  republi- 
cans as  you  did  ?  There  seems  to  be  plenty  of  that  sort 
of  thing  going  on  in  Paris  just  now?" 


THE   END    OF   THE    BEGINNING.  255 

The  Rev.  Edward  believed  he  had  hit  the  cousin  who 
had  been  so  blind  to  his  merits,  a  very  hard  blow. 

Dinner  was  about  as  dull  as  dinners  are,  when  most  0} 
the  company  are  preoccupied  by  some  serious  interest, 
of  which  they  do  not  consider  it  polite  to  talk. 

Sir  Mark  made  quite  a  solemn  ceremony  of  the  si.a-nin" 
of  the  settlements.  The  parchments  were  spread  out 
ostentatiously  on  a  round  table,  on  which  were  wax 
candles  in  two  enormous  silver  candlesticks,  and  Sir 
Mark  asked  Mr.  Baldwin  questions  in  a  loud  voice,  and 
did  all  that  man  could  do  to  force  Lill  to  understand 
what  was  settled  on  her.  But  her  signature  was  all  that 
could  be  obtained  from  the  young  lady  ;  who  immediately 
afterwards,  to  Sir  Mark's  'astonishment,  left  the  room, 
followed  by  Miss  Althemiah,  and  thus  caused  Sir  Mark 
to  lose  his  game  of  picquet  with  the  only  woman  who 
understood  that  two  and  two  made  four. 

As  soon  as  Lill  could  rid  herself  of  Althemiah's  well- 
meant  attentions,  and  was  alone  with  Miss  Crumi)ton, 
she  flung  herself  on  her  knees  before  the  chaperone, 
begging  to  be  forgiven  for  all  her  many  naughtinesses. 

"  Crummie,  you  know  that  it  is  not  my  heart  that  is 
wicked.  Crummie,  dear,  you  will  come  and  live  with 
me — you  must  go  to  India  with  me,  and  ride  on  an 
elephant"— here  Lill  tried  to  laugh,  but  cried  instead. 
"  Tell  me,  you  love  me,  Crunnnie  ;  tell  me  that  I  have 
not  made  you  unhappy  all  these  many  past  years.  I 
have  never  yet  been  good  for  anything;  but  I  can  and 
do  love.  I  tliink  I  shall  be  a  better  woman  now  ;  you 
have  hopes  of  me,  Crummie." 

Miss  Crumpton,  sobbing  for  company,  said, — 
"  I'll  tell  you  what's  best  for  you,  my  dear,  though  1 
am  an  old  maid  :  you  must  go  to  bed  at  once,  and  have 
a  good  tumbler  full  of  hot  port  wine  negus.  God  bless 
you,  my  dear.  0  Lill,  what  will  become  of  me,  without 
your  dear  face  to  look  at  ?"  and  then  the  two  women  fell 
into  each  other's  arms,  and  wept. 


Lill's  marriage  was  very  quiet, — it  was  so  at  her  own 
request, — but  it  was  a  very  pretty  wedding.  She  was 
popular  in  AVavering ;  and  the  girls  of  the  village 
assembled,  of  their  own  accord,  to  strew  flowers  before 
her  as  she  walked  up  the  path  through  the  churchyard. 


256  WHO    BREAKS — PAY3. 

Every  woman  in  the  two  parishes  was  in  the  church ; 
and  they  all  considered  it  their  duty  to  weep  copiously. 

John  Larke,  who  from  his  ofiSce  as  parish  clerk,  had 
excellent  opportunities  of  observing  the  bridal  party, 
described  the  bride  as  more  like  waxwork  than  live  flesh 
and  blood. 

"  She  behaved  grandly ;  though  I  could  see  her 
shaking  like  an  aspen,  not  a  tear  did  she  let  drop." 

"I  -wish  she  hadn't  a  tore  her  beautiful  dress  on  that 
ere  nail  of  Sir  Mark's  pew,"  said  Mrs.  Pybus.  "  It  ain't 
lucky,  no.  it  ain't." 

Miss  Crumptou  had  conducted  herself  with  her  usual 
propriety  during  the  ceremony,  but  after  the  breakfast 
she  became  unruly,  running  up  and  down  stairs  with 
flushed  cheeks,  and  giving  wild  directions  about  Lady 
Ponsonby's  cloaks  and  bags. 

"  Something  is  the  matter  with  the  old  lady,"  whispered 
Mrs.  Tufton  to  Althemiah.  '•  I  am  sure  she  has  had  too 
much  champagne." 

Poor  Crummie  !  when  the  bride  gave  her  the  last  kiss, 
she  exclaimed  in  a  high  key, — 

"  The  happiest  day  of  my  life,  ray  dear  Lady  Pon- 
eonby." 

She  went  to  the  windows  with  the  rest  to  see  the 
carriage  drive  off. 

"  Have  you  got  an  old  shoe  ?"  she  asked  of  the  person 
next  her,  who  chanced  to  be  Sir  Mark.  "  1  have,  rose- 
coloured,  too ;  what  a  little  foot  she  has,  poor  dear,"  with 
a  sob,  bringing  an  old  dancing  shoe  of  Lill's  out  of  her 
pocket.  "  There  !"  she  flung  it  with  all  her  strength  on 
the  roof  of  the  carriage,  and  then  fainted  away  for  the 
first  time  in  her  life. 


THE    BEGINNING    OF    THE   END.  257 


CHAPTER   XLIV. 

The  Boginning  of  the  End. 

On  the  25th  of  June,  Sir  Frederick  and  Lady  Pon- 
3onby  drove  up  the  long  avenue  of  poplurs,  in  the  little 
town  of  Aix  les  Bains.  Never  had  two  handsomer  or 
happier  faces  appeared  at  the  ITStel  de  la  Poste. 

There  was  a  special  reason  for  the  visit  of  the  young 
couple  to  this  noisy,  gay  place,  hid  away  in  a  fold  of  the 
Alps.  They  had  come  thither  to  meet  Mrs.  Townsend 
by  appointment. 

One  of  the  first  letters  which  had  been  forwarded  by 
Miss  Crumpton  to  Lill,  was  from  that  flighty  and  long- 
missing  lady.  It  was  dated  Paris,  from  the  Rue  des 
Trois  Sabres : — 

"  Dearest  Lili,, 

"  I  AM  so  glad  to  see  by  Galignani'a  ^^essenger  (I 
have  not  been  able  to  renounce  that  particular  snare  of 
the  soul),  that  you  have  been  a  sensible  girl,  and  married 
a  jcivilized  and  reasonable  being,  a  countryman  and 
friend  :  for  though  there  are  other  honouro,ble  men  be- 
longing to  other  nations,  I  suppose,  gray  eyes,  brown 
hair,  and  a  fair  complexion  are  three  more  trustworthy 
signs,  believe  me, — hem  !  than  their  opposites.  Of 
course  you  fancy  yourself  in  Elysium  at  this  present 
moment,  so  T  implore  of  you,  do  not  write  to  me.  By 
the  by,  you  must  wonder  where  I  am,  my  dear ;  I  am  in 
a  semi-demi  religious  community.  No  vows  or  shaving 
required.  I  may  go  away  when  I  like,  so  I  like  to  stay. 
I  wear  a  black  gown  and  plain  white  cap,  which  the  evil 
spirit,  still  rampant  in  me,  makes  dangerous  to  ray 
spiritual  pastors  and  masters.  They  found  out  I  had  no 
vocation  for  preaching  to  stray  sheep.  Their  sad  stories 
make  mc  so  horribly  indignant,  that  I  rant  forth  philip- 
pics instead  of  pointing  out  errors  ;  so  I  am  set  to  mend 
bodies  instead  of  souls,  and  when  there  is  no  hospital 
duty  for  me,  I  teach  little  children.  Their  great  round 
eyes,  so  stupidly  ignorant  of  evil,  are  amusing  to  look  at. 
When  I  am  flat,  I  ask  for  a  spell  of  the  schoolroom: 
children  are  nice  inventions. 


258  WHO   BREAKS — PAYS. 

"The  youth  who  preached  that  day  in  the  chapel 
Taitbout,  has  gone  away  on  the  long  journey,  from  which 
no  one  comes  back.  I  can't  write  to  you  about  it ;  some 
day,  perhaps,  I  may  show  you  his  letters  to  me.  His 
mother — you  remember  her — so  like  some  wooden  effigy 
of  the  dark  ages,  poor  soul — well,  can  you  believe  it,  she 
says, — foolish  body — that  I  have  been  a  comfort  to  her  ? 

"After  all,  yes,  I  should  like  to  hear  everything  about 
you  and  your  husband :  he  is  the  son,  of  course,  of  the 
charming  lady  you  ran  after  in  Paris.  Good-bye,  my 
pretty  Lill.     Don't  forget, 

"  Your  loving  friend, 

"  HONORA  TOWNSEND. 

"  P.S. — What  of  Sir  Mark  and  the  dear  chaperoue  ? 
Why  shouldn't  they  be  joined  together  in  holy  matri- 
mony ?   Don't  mention  the  proposal  as  coming  from  me." 

"  Not  a  bit  changed,"  said  Lill,  after  giving  Sir 
Frederick  a  short  account  of  Mrs.  Townseud. 

"  People  don't  cliange,"  replied  he. 

"Yes,  they  do,''  affirmed  his  wife.  "lam  perfectly 
unlike  an  ospifegle ;  or  even  the  Lill  Tufton  you  met  at 
Wavering."  , 

"  Modified,  not  changed,  Lill." 

"  Changed  outright,  I  am  grown  too  lazy  to  be  impul- 
sive,"  she  answered.  "Looking  back,  I  am  full  of 
wonder  and  fear  at  the  way  I  used  to  rush  into  difficul- 
ties.  It  was  my  way,  Fred,  to  leap  first  and  look 
afterwards." 

"  vVnd  I  am  to  believe  you  are  quite  incapable  of  such 
enormities  now  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  am  as  slavish  as  your  spaniel,  who  always 
consults  your  eyes  before  he  even  wagsliis  tail.  It's  very 
nice  to  have  some  one  to  take  all  the  trouble  of  thinking 
what's  best  to  be  done  off  one's  hands.  Yes,  yes ;  1  have 
quite,  quite  done  with  rush  decisions." 

Ai  (iiMieva,  aiKitlicr  letter  letter  from  Mrs.  Townsend 
rcac'u'd  Lill.  After  thanking  her  for  having  written  so 
'.minedialely,  Mrs.  'I'owusend  explained  that  she  had  been 
induced  to  leave  Paris  and  join  her  sister  (the  one  she 
had  onces])oken  of  to  Lill),  the  wife  of  the  Major  Marco 
All)erti.  'J'he  Sigiiora  Ailierti  was  in  a  frantic  state; 
her  husband  had  been  wounded  in  the  face  *nd  the  arm 


THE    BEGINNING    OF    THE    END.  259 

lie  was  ordered  to  Aix  Ics  Bains,  tbe  waters  there  beicg 
considered  good  for  sword  wounds.  "  As  you  mean  to 
go  to  Geneva."  the  letter  went  on  to  say,  "  out  of  charity 
extend  your  travels  to  Aix  les  Bains,  and  give  me  the 
comfort  of  some  rational  conversation.  My  dear  Lill, 
you  cannot  be  too  thankful  for  your  escape  from  these 
crazy,  crusading  Italians.  Why  couldn't  the  Picdniou- 
tese  be  satisfied  with  setting  a  good  example  ?  I  shall 
hate  the  words,  freedom  and  liberty,  for  the  rest  of  my 
life.  I  am  dying  to  see  Sir  Frederick.  I  really  shall  be 
grateful  if  you  will  agree  to  my  request." 

When  people  are  very  happy,  they  are  generally  very 
good-natured,  and  therefore  Mrs.  'J'ownsend's  petition 
was  granted.  There  was  a  note  waiting  for  Lady  Pon- 
sonby  at  the  Hotel  de  la  Poste,  when  she  arrived.  Mrs. 
Townsend  wrote  that  she  would  be  at  Aix  with  the  Al- 
bertis  on  the  day  but  one  after,  adding,  "  Marco  is 
suffering  horribly." 

"  Then  to-morrow  we  can  devote  to  Haute  Combe," 
said  Lill. 

The  husband  and  wife  passed  that  evening  by  the  side 
of  the  water ;  they  saw  the  sun  set  behuid  the  steep 
naked  summits  of  ithe  Mont  dn  Chat,  which  stretches  for 
two  leagues  along  the  southern  side  of  the  Lac  de  Bour- 
get.  They  remained  out  even  when  twilight  had  dark- 
ened into  night.  Overleaping  the  present,  they  made 
plans  for  the  future,  their  intimate  talk  often  dying  into 
those  silences  which  are  no  interruption  to  the  communi- 
cation of  two  loving  hearts. 

The  next  day  was  as  fine  as  could  be  desired,  and  im- 
mediately after  breakfast  Sir  Frederick  and  Lill  set  off 
in  a  sailing  boat  for  the  Abbey  of  Haute  Combe,  the 
burial-place,  as  most  people  know,  of  the  royal  house  of 
Savoy.  After  having  been  for  two  months  in  the  midst 
of  all  the  grand  picturesqueness  of  the  Alps,  rocks,  val- 
leys, pine  forests,  lakes,  and  glaciers  of  Switzerland, 
neither  of  the  travellers  were  prepared  to  be  fascinated 
by  the  scenery  of  a  defile  in  Savoy.  But  the  immense 
mass  of  the  Mont  du  Chat  has  a  sombre,  savage  splen- 
dour of  its  own.  and  the  Lac  de  Bourget,  from  the  left 
shore  of  which  the  mountain  rises  sheer,  has  its  own  pe- 
culiar loveliness.    Within  its  transparent,  narrow  bounds 


260  WHO    BREAKS — PAYS. 

meet  and  mingle  mountain,  sunny  vineyards,  church  and 
church-yards,  with  the  blue  firmament.  No  separation 
there  between  hard  earth  and  soft  heaven. 

"  You  will  not  persuade  me  to  move  from  here  for  at 
least  a  week,"  said  Lill  to  her  husband;  "this  place 
bewitches  me.  Listen  to  the  water,  Fred — His  musical, 
I  always  thought  that  a  poetical  license — listen — and 
what  a  sky !" 

"  Not  so  blue  and  pure  as  your  own  eyes,  Lill." 

"Sacrilege,"  she  snid,  quickly ;  then  throwing  herself 
back  on  the  seat  half  in  a  reclining  attitude,  she  added, 
"  I  am  too  happy  to  talk,"  and  remained  silent.  An  ex- 
pression of  ecstasy  spreading  itself  over  her  face. 

The  two  l)oatmen  iDokcd  at  her,  and  then  at  each 
other;  one  uttered  a  significant  "J'espire!"  a  very 
comprehensive  contraction,  meaning,  "Well!  I  hope 
she's  handsome  enough."  They  then  suddenly  began  to 
sing  one  of  their  native  love  songs,  a  mixture  of  strident, 
with  monotonous  complaining  notes.  The  crew  of 
another  boat,  not  far  off,  took  up  the  melody.  Tears 
filled  Lill's  eyes  as  she  listened,  and  she  slipped  her  hand 
into  that  of  her  husband. 

After  the  romance  of  the  morning,  came  the  comedy 
of  the  evening.  They  went  to  the  Casino.  Lill's  ap- 
pearance was  greeted  with  that  murmur,  which  is  so 
flattering  to  a  woman,  "  Beautiful  as  a  dream,"  observed 
niore  than  one  young  man. 

Lill  had  never  been  vain,  but  she  was  delighted  with 
this  homage — it  was  something  more  to  lay  on  the  altar 
she  had  built  in  her  heart  to  her  husband. 

They  had  made  the  circuit  of  the  rooms,  stojiping  to 
look  on  at  the  roitije  et  tioir  tables.  One  of  tiie  gam- 
blers, a  lovely  wonuni,  who  might  once  have  disputed  the 
palm  of  beauty  witli  the  young  English  wife,  particularly 
attracted  Ijill's  notice.  A  heap  of  gold  lay  by  the  elbow 
of  this  person:  every  tinu'  she  staked  she  won.  Presently 
she  moved  as  if  to  go  away. 

"Madame,  don't  forget  your  money,"  said  one  of  lur 
neighbours. 

"  1  play  for  excitement,  not  gold,"  she  said  aloud,  and 
left  it. 

"  Poor  thing  I  huw  I  i)ity  her,"  said  Lill  :  '  let  us  go 
away." 


THIS    BEGIKNING    CF    THE    EN3.  261 

As  Lill  entered  the  ball-room  leaning  on  her  husband's 
arm,  another  couple  advanced  from  the  opposite  end  of 
the  salon.  The  lady  was  not  young,  about  thirty,  and 
of  a  doubtful  beauty,  at  least  as  far  as  features  went ; 
"  striking,"  was  the  word  to  use  in  describing  her.  She 
took  your  attention  by  storm.  Her  almond-shaped  eyes 
were  of  a  light,  undecided  colour,  but  the  thick  lung 
lashes  in  which  they  were  set  nuide  them  seem  black  as 
night.  Heavy  bauds  of  black  hair  surrounded  her  face, 
the  complexion  of  which  was  clear  and  pale  as  alabaster. 
She  was  tall — taller  than  Lill,  slight,  upright,  and  mag- 
nilicently  curved. 

Lill  felt  Sir  Frederick  start :  he  made  a  swerve  to  the 
side,  indicative  of  a  wish  to  avoid  the  dazzling  stranger, 
but  he  recovered  himself,  and  as  they  passed  he  bowed 
low,  the  lady  slightly  moving  her  head  in  return. 

Lill  had  scarcely  time  to  feel  fluttered  and  annoyed, 
when  she  heard  a  well-known,  bold  voice,  and  Mdlle.  Ar- 
senieffwas  addressing  her.  With  the  Russian's  usual 
freedom  she  was  already  catechizing  Lady  Ponsonby  on 
how  she  came  to  be  at  Aix,  volunteering  the  informa- 
tion that  she  had  come  thither  herself  under  tiie  patron- 
age  of  Madame  la  Comtesse  Mathilde  de  Ravignan. 

"  My  concert  is  to-morrow.  I  shall  expect  you  to 
take  a  dozen  tickets  for  friendship's  sake.  Et  ce  pauvre 
Giuliani  ?" 

At  this  moment  the  gentleman,  on  whose  arm  the 
Comtesse  Mathilde  had  been  leaning,  spoke  to  Sir  Fred- 
erick. 

"Will  you  sit  down  a  moment,  love,"  he  said.  "I 
must  go  and  speak  to  an  old  acquaintance." 

He  led  l^ill  to  a  chair.  Mdlle.  ArseniefF  followed 
Lady  Ponsonby,  and  sitting  down  by  her  pursued  her 
course  of  cross-examination.  Lill  answered  her  politely 
and  calmly,  though  she  feh  a  terrible  tightness  in  her 
chest,  her  lips  quivered,  but  too  slightly  to  attract  the 
attention  of  her  companion. 

Lill  fancied  Sir  Frederick  avoided  looking  towards 
where  she  was ;  and  that  he  moved  his  shoulders  with  a 
gesture  she  knew  denoted  impatience  when  she  turned 
her  eyes  in  his  direction. 

At  last  he  came  back  to  her  ;  she  whispered  : 


262  WHO   BREAKS — PAYS. 

You  have  been  a  long  time  away." 

"  You  must  not  expect  that  we  can  remain  always  to- 
gether," he  said,  shortly. 

These  were  the  first  rough  words  she  had  ever  heard 
from  him. 

She  was  in  society,  so  she  smiled. 

Mdme.  la  Comtesse  and  Lady  Ponsonby  exchanged  a 
look  as  they  again  repassed  each  other  in  the  salon.  A 
painful  shudder  ran  through  Lill's  frame,  and  she  told 
Sir  Frederick  she  had  had  enough  of  the  Casino. 

When  they  reached  their  own  apartments  in  the 
hotel,  Lill  perceived  an  air  of  defiance  on  Sir  Frederick's 
face.  In  that  lillle  wilful  head  of  hers  one  maxim  had 
fixed  itself,  and  that  was  to  avoid  the  first  quarrel.  Be- 
sides, she  loved  him,  and  love  had  taught  her  humility 
and  fear.  She  was  not  quite  confident  of  her  power 
over  him  :  a  woman's  instinct  is  fine  enough  always  te 
tell  her  if  she  viay  be  the  tyrant,  or  must  be  the  slave. 


A  PKEP  INTO  BLUKBEARD  S  CLOSET.        263 


CHAPTER  XLY. 

A  Peep  into  Bluebeard's  Closet. 

The  next  morning  Lill  rose  with  the  idea  that  she  had 
been  very  foolish  the  evening  before.  It  had  been  pre- 
posterous of  her  to  reproach  her  husband  for  conversing 
for  half-an-hour  with  a  former  acquaintance.  She  to  do 
so,  who  had  so  often  ridiculed  the  silly  exactingness  of 
young  wives  !  She  accused  herself  in  order  to  have  an 
excuse  for  Sir  Frederick's  roughness. 

Night  had  brought  good  inspirations  to  him  also ;  he 
regretted  having  spoken  harshly  to  Lill,  but  she  must 
understand  that  and  not  require  any  acknowledgment  of 
his  fault. 

Thus  inclined  for  amity,  their  breakfast  was  as  cheer- 
ful as  usual,  though  each  was  sensible  of  making  an 
effort.  Tliis  was  the  first  time  that  they  had  experienced 
that  sensation  in  each  other's  company  since  their  mar- 
riage. Lill,  always  as  impulsive  as  ever,  in  spite  of  her 
belief  to  the  contrary,  wanted  some  extra  demonstration 
of  affection  from  Sir  Frederick  to  set  her  heart  at  ease, 
and  to  obtain  this  she  began  to  flatter  him  with  the 
cunning  of  love. 

"  Not  one  quarrel,  and  we  have  been  married  nearly 
nine  weeks  ?"  she  said ;  "  no  thanks  to  me,  for  I  have 
tried  to  do  so  a  dozen  times,"  and  she  linked  lier  arm  in 
his.  "Dear  Fred,  will  you  always  be  so  kind  and  for- 
bearing with  such  a  wilful  wife  ?" 

"  Will  my  dear  little  wife,"  he  playfully  tapped  her 
fair  cheek,  •'  continue  to  look  at  me  through  the  rose- 
coloured  spectacles  she  has  been  wearing  for  the  last 
two  months?  I  don't  think  even  your  eyes,  Lill,  would 
be  beautiful  behind  green  glasses." 

Lill  winced,  and  let  go  her  hold  of  him.     She  felt 
rising  of  licr  old  impatience. 

"Are  you  still  angry  with  me  ?"  she  said. 

"Angry!  when  was  I  angry?  Come,  Lill,  let  us  go 
out  into  the  air,  and  have  a  gallop  on  something;  if  we 
cannot  find  horses,  there  are  capital  donkeys  here." 

"  I  should  like  it,  but  I  must  stay  at  home  to  receive 


264  WHO    BREAKS — PAYS 

Mrs.  Townsend :  she  did  not  mention  at  what  hour  she 
would  arrive."  Lill  was  vexed  that  Sir  Frederick  did 
not  understand  how  she  was  trying  to  conquer  herself, 
and  her  voice  had,  unintentionally  so,  a  little  grieved 
tone,  which  is  in  general  peculiarly  irritating  to  husbands. 

"  That's  a  bore  !"  he  exclaimed.  "  I'll  go  and  take  a 
ook  round,  ask  for  letters,  and  bring  you  the  news." 

Even  while  he  spoke  he  had  the  door  open  in  his  hand. 
He  was  gone  without  the  iisual  caress,  without  even  a 
glance. 

Lill  feels  aggrieved ;  ah !  he  is  returning  repentant  ? 
no ;  it  is  only  Ruth  with  a  small  packet. 

"Your  master  is  just  gone  to  the  post,"  and  Lill 
leaned  out  of  the  window  in  hopes  of  seeing  Sir  Fred- 
erick. 

"  This  did  not  come  by  post,  my  lady,"  explained 
Ruth  ;  "  one  of  the  waiters  gave  it  to  me." 

The  envelope  was  addressed  in  that  fine  small  writing 
known  all  over  the  civilized  world  as  "  Pattes  de 
mouches."  Yes,  it  certainly  was  for  Lady  Ponsonby, 
though  she  wondered  who  her  correspondent  could  be. 
Now  she  guesses ;  no  doubt  Mdlle.  Arsenieff  has  sent 
her,  as  she  threatened,  the  dozen  tickets  for  the  concert. 
Lill  opened  the  packet :  it  was  full  of  letters,  written  on 
thin  foreign  paper.  She  at  once  recognized  her  hus- 
band's hand;  she  had  presence  of  mind  enough  to  say: 
"You  need  not  wait,  Ruth." 

There  they  are  on  lier  lap,  the  direction  tells  her  to 
whom  written :  "  Mdine.  la  Comtesse  dc  Ravignan." 
She  shuffled  them  like  a  pack  of  cards,  recalling  poor 
Crummie's  first  confidence  a]>ont  Sir  Frederick.  Some 
were  to  Piiris,  some  to  the  Bains  d'Ani61io,  one  or  two 
had  Brt'tagne  on  them.  AViiat  business  has  slie  with 
any  correspondence  of  Sir  Frederick  Ponsonby's  before 
her  marriage  ?  Is  she  going  to  be  a  spy  ?  She  threw  the 
letters  on  the  table,  and  in  so  doing  a  small  note  fell  out. 
It  ran  tiuis  : — 

"Madamk, 

"  AvKz  I'extrfitne  gracieuset6  de  rendre  k  Sir  Frederick 
Ponsonby  les  lettres  ci-incluscs.  Je  vous  demande  ce 
petit  service,  croyez-le,  Madame,  pour  vous  6viter  ud 


A  PEEP  HJTo  Bluebeard's  closet.  2C5 

moment  d'inqui^tude,  ce  qui  pournvitblen  arriver  si  vous 
voyiez  une  lettre  dans  I'^criturc  d'une  femme  ^  I'adresse 
de  votre  mari.  Sir  Frederick  m'ayant  dejii  remis  mes 
pauvrcs  Icttrcs  ^moi,  je  ineseusappelee  k  en  fairc  autant 
des  sienues.  Depuis  que  je  vous  aie  vu,  Madame,  J8 
puis  comprendre  et  m^me  pardonner  I'incoastance  do 
que] que  homme  que  ce  soil. 

"  Agr6ez  mes  sentimens  de  respect, 

"Mathilde,  Comtesse  de  Ravignan 

"  (N6e  de  Loisic)." 

Was  it  possible  to  stab  any  one  with  more  politeness  ? 
Lill  determined  to  play  her  part  equally  well ;  she  would 
present  the  letters  to  her  husband  without  a  question, 
without  even  a  look  that  he  could  misconstrue  into  vex- 
ation. Droll  indeed  if  she,  the  winner  of  the  victory, 
were  going  to  be  jealous  of  the  past — of  an  elderly 
coquettish  Frenchwoman?  She  ought  rather  to  joke  him 
about  his  taste  for  antiques.  She  wished  with  all  her 
heart  he  would  come  in  and  relieve  her  of  the  charge  of 
his  property — his  sole  property ;  she  had  no  claim  on 
anything  that  was  his  before  they  were  married. 

Again  and  again  she  stretched  her  slender  neck  out 
of  the  window,  to  see  if  he  were  returning.  Every  time 
she  glanced  towards  the  table  on  which  lay  the  letters, 
she  lesseiicd  the  distance  between  them  and  her.  They 
had  the  same  fascination  for  her  that  a  serpent  is  said  to 
have  for  a  bird.  Her  eyes  seemed  to  penetrate  the 
paper,  to  read  words  that  would  render  her  the  most 
miserable  of  creatures  for  the  rest  of  her  life.  Two  cries 
of  impatient  pain  issued  from  her  lips.  She  put  her 
hands  behind  her  to  keep  them  out  of  tonq)tation,  still 
her  neck  was  extended,  revealing  a  most  torturing  exci- 
tation. The  voice  of  Sir  Frederick  resounded  beneath 
the  window.  She  did  not  catch  what  he  was  saying,  but 
suddenly,  actuated  by  one  of  those  impulses  so  beyond 
our  own  consciousness  that  they  seem  to  come  from  a 
power  above  and  beyond  us,  she  seized  the  whole  of  the 
letters,  to  thrust  them  out  of  sight  into  her  carriage  bag 
open  on  a  sofa.  As  she  did  so,  one  dropped  at  her  feet; 
in  picking  it  up  she  saw  the  postmark  of  "  Wavering," 
and  '•  23rd  April,"  the  dale  of  her  wedding-day. 

23 


266  WHO   BREAKS — PAYS. 

"Mine,  mire,"  she  muttered,  and  she  put  it  into  her 
bosom,  only  the  next  instant  to  draw  it  out ;  the  touch 
had  stung  her. 

"  I  will  know  all  soon,  though  it  kill  me."  Yes,  thai 
is  the  desire  which  swallows  up  in  such  moments  all 
others.  To  know  the  whole  of  one's  misery,  to  do  that 
the  jealous  become  endowed  with  the  dissimulation,  the 
patience,  the  stoical  endurance  of  the  Indian.  Her  hus- 
band came  back. 

"  No  letters,"  said  he,  sitting  down  by  her,  and 
throwing  his  arm  round  her  waist. 

The  blessed  influences  of  a  serene  sky  and  beautiful 
nature  had  banished  his  irritation ;  he  had  been  his  own 
confessor  by  the  side  of  the  blue  waters  of  the  lake. 
Yes,  the  sight  of  the  Comtesse  Mathilde  had  made  him 
unjust,  rude  to  his  fair,  trusting,  loving  bride. 

"  What  has  been,  cannot  be  sponged  out,"  he  said  to 
himself.  "  The  love  1  had  for  Mathilde  was  different 
from  what  I  feel  for  my  poor  Lill ;  but  I  am  honestly 
glad  that  Lill,  not  Mathilde,  is  my  wife." 

The  more  he  analyzed  the  sensations  the  more  satis- 
fied he  felt  with  his  lot.  Mathilde's  image  faded  in  the 
presence  of  that  of  his  charming,  pure  young  wife.  In 
this  happy  state  of  mind  he  returned  to  the  hotel. 

"  By-the-by,  Frederick,  you  have  never  told  me  any- 
thing about  the  lady  you  met  last  night :  not  even  her 
name,"  began  Lill. 

"  Madame  la  Comtesse  de  Ravignan." 

'•  Ought  I  to  call  on  her,  or  she  on  me  ?  It  seems  to  me 
that  you  having  known  her  so  well,  she  and  I  ought  to 
bo  civil  to  one  another." 

"  AVhat  put  it  into  your  head  that  we  were  intimate?" 

"  One  can't  always  demonstrate  mathematically  how 
impressions  are  received,"  she  answered  carelessly.  "  Is 
she  the  lady  of  the  Faubourg  St.  Gerunvin,  who  made 
you  a  legitimist?" 

"  She,  and  some  others." 

"  Well,  shall  1  send  her  a  card  or  call  ?  I  suppose  she 
is  in  this  hotel." 

"  You  would  not  like  her ;  she  would  not  suit  you  at 
all." 

"  I  could  avoid  politics  with  her,  you   know.     I  am 


A  PEEP  INTO  Bluebeard's  closet.  2G'. 

ratlior  curious  to  be  acquainted  witli  a  grandtdame  of 
the  old  aristocracy.  I  never  had  that  pleasure,  for  Sii 
Mark  would  not  visit  French  families." 

Sir  Frederick  by  this  time  felt  a  storm  in  the  air.  He 
was  in  reality  too  honest,  too  inexperienced  in  deceivin;^, 
to  know  how  to  manag-e.  The  notion  never  entered  his 
head  that  a  frank  avowal  of  his  former  love  for  Madame 
de  Ravignan  would  cut  the  knot  that  already  existed  ; 
he  went  on  tying  another. 

"Well,  if  you  wish  it,  I  will  see  her  and  tell  her  you 
are  coming." 

"  Does  she  need  to  be  prepared  for  the  sight  of  me  ?" 

"  If  you  had  expressed  the  same  wish  when  we  met 
her  at  the  Casino,  an  introduction  would  have  taken 
place  naturally  ;  now,  it  might  seem  like  a  caprice." 

"  You  kept  away  so  determinately  last  evening,  I  had 
no  opportunity  of  proposing  anything,"  said  Lill. 

"  You  looked  so  forbidding  and  angry,  I  was  afraid  of 
some  ^clat." 

The  conversation  was  going  all  wrong.  Sir  Fl'ederick 
took  away  his  arm,  then  changed  his  seat. 

Lill  hesitated  ;  should  she  insist  on  the  veil  being 
raised  ?  Was  she  quite  prepared  for  what  might  be  the 
consequences ! 

Had  Sir  Frederick  looked  at  her,  he  might  have  seen  a 
sort  of  ripple  passing  over  her  skin  and  spoiling  its  even- 
ness. He  was,  however,  sitting  half  turned  away,  with 
the  paper  of  the  day  before  in  his  hand. 

"  Fred,  do  you  remember  the  walk  we  had  together 
the  day  before  we  were  married  ?" 

'.'  Of  course  I  do :  there's  been  scarcely  time  for 
forgetting." 

He  rose  and  took  his  hat. 

"  Going  out  again  ?" 

"  Yes  :  you  don't  make  it  so  agreeable  that  I  should 
remain  in  this  stupid  little  room." 

"Stay  a  minute,  Frederick  ;"  she  ran  between  him  and 
the  door;  "1  have  something  to  say." 

She  was  tingling  from  head  to  foot ;  her  eyes  grew 
glassy,  and  her  face  green  with  the  agony  of  her  sup- 
pressed feelings. 

"  I  have  had  a  letter  from  Madame  de  Ravignan." 


268  WHO  BREAKS PATS. 

Quite  involuntarily  he  sat  down  again. 

••  Read  it."    She  spread  it  out  before  him. 

"  "Where  are  the  letters  ?"  he  asked,  after  running  his 
eye  over  the  note. 

"  In  my  bag — all  but  one." 

"  And  you  have  read  them  ?" 

He  was  very  fierce. 

She  answered  him  by  a  look  of  indignation  only.  He 
understood  her. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Lill." 

'■'  I  have  not  yet  read  a  syllable.  There  is  your  cor- 
respondence intact,  up  to  my  wedding-day.  Possibly 
Madame  de  Ravignan  judged  me  as  you  did.  This  one 
I  withhold,  the  one  written  on  the  day  you  married  me." 

He  interrupted  her. 

"  Not  written." 

"  Sent  away,  then,  on  the  day  you  married  me.  I 
mean  to  read  it  in  your  presence." 

"You  will  do  a  very  foolish  act,  Lill.  Can  you  not 
understand,  there  may  be  times  when  a  man,  who  is  a 
man,  feels  bound  to  use  soft  language  to  a  woman,  to 
cover  hard  truth  ?" 

"  Perfectly,"  she  said,  and  she  opened  the  letter.  "  I 
will  read  it  aloud." 

"  I  beg  of  you,  Lill,  as  a  favour,  to  give  me  that  fool- 
ish scrawl.  I  forget  what  is  in  it ;  but  I  swear  to  you 
that  I  loved  you,  and  you  only,  the  day  we  were  married. 
Give  it  to  me." 

She  sprang  past  him  through  tli>>  door  connecting  the 
salon  and  Ijedroom  :  before  ho  could  jirevent  it,  he  heard 
the  key  turned  in  that  door,  and  also  in  the  one  on  the 
stairs. 

She  opened  the  letter  and  hesitated  as  a  gambler  does, 
who  is  about  to  stake  all  he  possesses  on  one  Ihrow.  But 
she  could  not  withstand  that  ravenous  a])])('tite  for  cer- 
tainty which  is  one  of  tiie  invariable  symptoms  of  jeal- 
ousy :  she  sought  it,  and  found  it. 

The  letter,  dated  the  2'ind  of  April  ;  began  with, — 

"Too  late,  loo  hite  :  your  relenting  is  like  a  reprieve 
to  a  deatl  man."  Here  was  conlirnial  ion  of  those  sus- 
picions allayed,  not  u|)rooted,  which  had  tortured  her  at 
Wavering.     She  writhed  now  under  the  knowledge  that 


A  PEEP  INTO  BLUEBEARD  S  CLOSET.        269 

she  was  not  the  one  he  would  have  chosen.  She  pursued 
her  reading.  "You  should  have  my  life  willingly;  but 
not  my  honour.  My  word  is  given  to  Miss  Tut'ton,  and 
not  even  to  call  you  my  own,  would  I  now  draw  back. 
You  alone  know  whethei'  your  heart  is  racked  by  the  an- 
guish you  so  well  describe ;  or  whether  your  pen  was 
guided  by  the  infernal  desire  to  stir  into  life  the  embers 
of  a  passion  you  provoked,  and  then  disdained.  That 
mad,  soul-absorbing  passion  which  I  have  felt  for  you,  I 
shall  never  feel  again.  You  have  had  the  first  bloom  of 
my  heart,  but  it  will  flower  again,  tended  and  sheltered 
by  my  sweet  girl-bride.  T  cau  confidently  trust  my  hap 
piness  in  her  hands.  She  loves  me  simply,  affectionately. 
Her  love  was  a  spontaneous  gift;  I  accepted  it  grate- 
fully, as  a  shipwrecked  wretch  does  a  saving  plank.  In 
return  I  give  her  firm  faith  and  deep  devotion.  I  look 
back  on  the  year  gone  by  as  on  an  epoch  of  folly  and 
delusion.  It  belongs  to  the  shadowy  past.  My  heart 
will  be  re-baptized  to  happiness  through  the  innocent 
love  of  the  beautiful,  noble  creature  who  will  be  my  wife 
within  less  than  twenty-four  hours." 

The  signature,  and  that  was  all. 

As  she  read,  Lill  felt  with  horrible  distinctness  every 
single  hair  of  her  head  moving.  She  could  not  keep  her 
teeth  from  chattering.  She  had  seen  what  was  in  Blue 
Beard's  closet.  Rub,  rub,  as  she  may,  she  will  never  rub 
out  from  her  heart  the  testimony  of  her  unwise  visit 

23* 


270  WnO  BREAKS — PATS. 

CHAPTER  XL VI. 

Love  in  Hate. 

Thouguts  are  too  rapid  in  the  terrible  crises  of  life, 
to  be  caught  hold  of  and  described.  Lill's  soul  was  like 
a  ship  between  Scjlla  and  Charybdis.  It  was  tossing 
on  hissing,  bubbling  waves,  without  compass  and  without 
steersman.  Only  two  months  !  and  already  at  the  end 
of  her  happiness.  It  would  be  of  no  avail  to  follow  the 
impulse,  sprung  from  the  cowardice  rather  than  from  the 
courage  of  her  love,  which  was  urging  her  to  throw  her- 
self on  her  husband's  neck,  counselling  her  to  seek  no 
further  enlightenment  as  to  how  much  or  how  little  she 
had  of  his  heart,  but  rather  to  undertake  the  conquest 
of  the  whole. 

"  I  should  fail,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  for  I  could  never 
forget.  j\Iy  faith  in  him  is  lost.  "Where,  then,  would  be 
my  standing  point?  The  words,  addressed  to  that  woman 
on  the  very  eve  of  our  marriage  day,  would  for  ever  come 
between  my  heart  and  his." 

She  overheard  Sir  Frederick  push  back  his  chair.  She 
heard  his  step :  that  well-known  sound,  which  had  alwaj'S 
been  a  signal  of  joy  to  her  :  it  brought  tears  into  her 
eyes,  scorched  by  the  reading  of  the  letter.  Sir  Freder- 
ick knocked  at  the  inner  door.  Mis  sensations  about 
Madame  de  Ilavignan's  spiteful  conduct  were  a  curious 
compound  of  anger  and  mortiliratiou  ;  but  knowing  that 
whatever  had  been  the  doubtful  state  of  his  affections 
when  he  proposed  to  Lill,  that  now  she  was  undisputed 
sovereign  of  his  heart,  when  he  cooled,  he  was  ready  to 
smile  at  the  tragic  manner  in  which  his  wile  had  rushed 
out  of  the  room,  clutching  his  lust  unlucky  ellusion  to 
Madame  de  Ilavignan.  Sir  l-'rcdcrick  was  handsome  as 
an  archangel,  amiable,  affectionate,  and  generous-hearted, 
but  by  no  means  the  hero  of  romance  Lill  had  erected 
him  irto.  Moreover,  though  ho  had  made  a  great  show 
of  vehemence  towards  .Madame  do  Ilavignan,  he  had  no 
great  capability  of  passion;  the  gentle  tenderness  he 
felt  for  liill  was  wli;it,  was  most  in  accordance  with  his 
character. 


LOVE    IN    HATE.  271 

"  Lill,  come  back  tome,"  he  called,  through  the  closed 
door. 

The  voice  had  its  effect— she  opened  the  door ;  he 
seized  her  iu  his  arms,  aud  kissed  her  violently— with  a 
violence,  indeed,  that  was  new  to  her. 

There  is  no  calculating  with  sensitive  natures.  Lill 
drew  back  offended.   She  felt  the  caress  almost  an  insult. 

"  I  am  not  Madame  de  Ravignan,  the  object  of  a  '  mad, 
soul-absorbing  passion,'  but  your  wife,"  and  she  walked 
to  the  sofa. 

"  My  dear  Lill !"  exclaimed  Sir  Frederick.  "  I  would 
as  soon  have  met  a  tigress  in  my  path  as  tliat  lady." 

"  You  forget  that  the  window  is  open,  Sir  Frederick  ; 
that  lady  may  hear  you.  You  need  not  use  such  strong 
language  to  reassure  me ;  I  am  not  going  to  play  the 
jealous  wife." 

"  You  have  no  cause  for  doing  so.  My  dear  love,  how 
ill  you  look !" 

"  No  wonder !" 

Sir  Frederick's  ease  of  manner,  which  she  was  too 
agitated  to  perceive  was  assumed,  threw  her  into  one  of 
those  terrible  excesses  of  passion  in  which  a  woman  is 
capable  of  killing  the  man  she  adores. 

"  I  marvel  you  have  survived  your  trials.  There's  your 
letter,"  she  said,  and  threw  it  ou  the  ground,  giving  him  a 
look  of  scorn  that  was  equivalent  to  a  blow  on  the  lace. 

He  coloured,  and  stooped  to  pick  up  the  letter.  He 
was  in  the  act  of  tearing  it,  when  she  darted  forward  and 
tried  to  snatch  it  from  him. 

"No  you  shall  not  destroy  it;  I  have  changed  my 
mind,^I  shall  keep  it." 

He  stopped  what  further  she  would  have  said,  by 
placing  his  hand  on  her  mouth,  exclaiming, — 

"  Listen  1" 

A  man  in  the  street  was  shouting,  "  Revolution  k 
Paris!  Massacres.  Battaille  sanglante  k  Montmartre ; 
I'Archeveque  assassin^." 

Sir  Frederick  ran  out,  leaving  Lill  undisputed  posses- 
sion of  the  letter. 

"  How  much  he  loves  me  1"  she  thought,  bitterly.  "  My 
anguish  is  nothing  to  him  ;  he  does  not  even  see  it.  Oh  ' 
what  a  fool  I  have  been  !" 


272  WHO    BREAKS — PATS. 

Sir  Frederick  was  away  nearly  half  an  hour ;  ho  came 
back  very  pale. 

"  The  French  mail  has  come  in,  and  I  have  a  letter 
from  Alicia.  Valentine  has  been  severely  wounded  in 
the  streets  of  Paris ;  the  doctors  give  little  hope.  My 
poor  mother  !  a  shaft  from  her  own  bow  has  done  it.  I 
must  be  off  for  Geneva  this  afternoon,  Lill.  Do  what 
I  will,  I  cannot  be  in  Paris  before  the  day  after  to-mor- 
row, probably  too  late." 

Lill  made  no  remark,  though  she  had  a  momentary 
sympathy  in  his  distress. 

"  Your  friend  will  be  here  to-day  or  to-morrow."  he 
continued  ;  "  and.  with  Ruth  and  Jacques,  you  will  not 
be  afraid  to  remain  here  without  me." 

"  I  shall  do  very  well,"  paid  Lill. 

She  did  not  ask  to  see  Alicia's  letter,  nor  for  any  ex- 
planation as  to  how  Valentine  came  to  bo  wounded,  nor 
yet  interest  herself  in  Sir  Frederick's  preparation  for  his 
journey. 

She  sat  like  one  overcome  by  invincible  sleep.  He 
was  going  away,  then,  without  their  having  come  to  any 
understanding  about  those  letters ;  he  seemed  to  have 
forgotten  that  she  was  offended,  and  had  good  right  to 
be  offended.  Her  heart  was  wounded,  and  her  pride 
irritated.     She  was  very  unhappy. 

More  than  once  Sir  Frederick  in  his  hurried  entries 
and  exits,  looked  at  her;  ho  know  she  was  not  deficient 
in  feeling.  He  looked,  but  Lill  was  cold  as  ice,  unyield- 
ing as  iron. 

"  I  shall  go  to  the  salle  d  mavcfor,  and  have  npotnge 
and  a  cho]),"  he  said.  "  I  have  nut  more  than  three 
quarters  of  an  hour  io  spare." 

"Yes  ;  I  suppose  you  will  not  stop  before  you  reach 
Geneva." 

Ho  had  expected  something  more.  Ho  went  out  of 
the  roiim  ;  the  sharp  closing  of  the  door  made  Lill  s])ring 
from  her  seat.  She  sat  miserable  and  undecided  while 
he  was  away ;  her  good  and  )ku1  angol  at  either  ear — the 
one  roiM'atiiig.  "  Soif-sacrifice  is  hoiivonly;  the  greater 
the  sacrifice  the  divin(>r;"  the  otiior  dinning  in  lior  oars, 
"Not  marri('(l  fur  love."  The  room  soomod  ])apered  with 
*  spoutaueoiis  gift."     She  could  never  forgive  his  writing 


LOVE    IX    HATE.  273 

chat ;  besides,  she  had  seen  a  man  in  love  :  memory  too 
faithfully  helped  her  with  her  comparison.  All  the  outr 
pourinffs  of  Sir  Frederick  fell  short  of  the  mark  Giuliani's 
restraint  had  reached. 

She  did  not  move  when  Sir  Frederick  came  back, 
already  with  his  hat  on. 

"Lill!"  he  raised  her  up  in  his  arms,  "are  we 
friends  ?" 

She  turned  aside.  He  stooped  to  kiss  her.  She  moved 
so  rapidly,  that  the  kiss  fell  on  her  head. 

"You  are  very  unkind,  Lill." 

"  Unkind  !  how  dare  you  accuse  me  when  you  have 
made  me  miserable?" 

"  It's  too  bad  !"  he  said,  and  letting  go  his  hold,  he 
walked  slowly  to  the  door.  He  lingered  ;  not  a  syllable, 
not  a  breath  even,  met  his  ear;  he  was  outside  the  door 
^no  relenting ;  downstairs — in  the  street.  When  Lill 
heard  the  clacking  of  the  postilion's  whip,  her  heart  had 
such  a  pang  she  thought  it  must  have  broken  ;  she  felt 
like  one  annihilated.  How  long  she  remained  in  that 
stony  sorrow,  she  never  knew — perhaps  a  minute,  per- 
haps an  hour.  Nothing  that  had  been,  ever  would  be 
the  same  again  ;  never,  never  more.  Her  eyes  had  been 
opened  ;  distrust  had  entered  her  soul,  with  grief. 

The  next  morning  Lill  was  tormented  by  a  visit  from 
Mdlle.  Arsenieff.  The  Russian  had  begun  by  being 
jealous  of  Lill  for  her  friend  Alicia's  sake  ;  but  as  noth- 
ing is  at  a  standstill  in  this  world  of  ours,  but  is  either 
diminishing  or  increasing,  so  did  this  dislike  of  Mdlle. 
Arsenieff  augment  into  unreasoning  hatred  of  young 
Lady  Ponsonby. 

"  T  am  come  now  to  place  myself  under  your  patron- 
age. Lady  Ponsonby,"  said  Mdlle.  Arsenieff.  "  Madame 
de  Ravignan  set  out  for  Paris  last  evening;  so  did  Sir 
Frederick,  1  hear;  j^erhaps,  they  may  make  the  journey 
together." 

"  I  think  that  is  not  probable.  Sir  Frederick  will 
hurry  on  without  a  moment's  delay;  it  is  with  him  » 
matter  of  life  and  death." 

"  They  were  old  friends,  you  know.     People  say — " 

Lill  interrupted  her:  "  People  say  that  Sir  Frederick 
proposed   to   her.     Oh,  yes ;   he   told   me    that   story 


274  WHO    BREAKS — PAYS. 


Young  men's  first  loves,  he  said,  are  apt  to  be  rather 
elderly.     They  are  maternal,  and  not  exacting." 

Another  letter  came  from  Mrs.  Townsend. 

Marco  Alberti  was  too  ill  to  be  moved  from  Turin. 
Could  not  the  Ponsonbys  come  on  there  ?  At  that  sea- 
son of  the  year  the  journey  was  nothing  from  Chaaibr6y. 

"  I  will  go  to  her,"  said  lall ;  "  he  has  set  me  an  ex- 
ample of  devotion  to  friends." 

She  thoroughly  believed  what  Mdlle.  Arsenieff  meant 
her  to  believe.  And  in  following  out  her  own  quickly 
conceived  plan,  she  was  not  likely  to  be  soon  undeceived. 
What  she  felt  was  love  in  hate.  She  adored  him,  yet 
she  wished  with  all  her  heart  to  pain  him  ;  she  did  not 
care  at  what  cost  to  herself:  vengeance  on  him,  ven- 
geance on  herself.  She  told  Ruth  to  pack  her  trunks, 
and  to  desire  Jacques  to  get  Sir  Frederick's  luggage 
ready.  She  sent  him  off  in  charge  of  it  to  Paris  the 
same  day  that  she  herself  started  for  Italy. 

From  Turin,  Lill  wrote  to  Sir  Frederick.  She  told 
him  in  a  very  few  lines  that  she  had  deliberately  left 
Aix,  and  that,  after  the  discovery  she  had  made,  she  felt 
the  necessity  of  their  not  meeting  again  at  the  present 
moment.  She  begged,  therefore,  he  would  agree  to  hei 
request  to  be  allowed  twelve  months  for  retiection.  He 
■was,  she  believed  too  delicate-minded  to  refuse  her.  For 
the  present  it  was  settled  she  would  remain  with  Mrs. 
Townsend  and  Madame  Alberti.  It  was  the  maddest 
act  of  poor  Lill's  life. 

Had  Sir  Frederick  had  some  more  experience,  be 
would  have  treated  her  malady  more  leniently.  Unfor- 
tunately, also,  when  tliis  crazy  document  readied  liim, 
he  had  not  tlie  heart  to  lay  an  additional  burden  on  l^ady 
Ponsonby.  Valentine  breathed,  and  tlnit  was  all.  Ever 
by  the  bedside  of  the  gentle,  kindly-natured  young  man, 
the  mother's  heart  ached  with  self-reproach  that  this 
child  had  hitherto  been  the  one  of  hvv  children  aliout 
whom  she  had  thought  least.  Alicia,  therefore,  was  Sir 
Frederick's  confident,  and  shared  in  his  indignation. 
She  was,  as  most  single  women  usually  are.  unmercifully 
severe  as  to  the  duties  of  a  wife;  without  any  knowl- 
edge of  the  vagaries  of  an  impetuous  human  being  like 
Lill,  with  her  terrible  susccptiltility  to  a  sense  of  wrong, 


LA.    SUPERBA.  2(3 


A-licia  advised  her  brother  to  agree  to  his  wife's  demand. 
Lady  Ponsonby,  on  the  contrary,  would  have  prevailed 
on  her  son  to  go  at  once  to  I.ill.  She  knew  that  the 
sight  of  the  beloved  one  would  act  on  Lill's  heart  like 
the  sun  on  frost.  However,  this  was  not  to  be.  Sir 
Frederick  wrote  in  the  first  heat  of  his  anger: 

"You  have  been  absurd— take  care  you  stop  short  at 
merely  making  yourself  aud  me  ridiculous.  You  have 
revengefully  calculated  how  to  mortify  and  wound  me. 
You  have,  therefore,  for  ever  lowered  yourself  in  my  es- 
timation.  I  comply  with  the  request  you  have  made ; 
but  do  not  be  astonished  if,  at  the  cud  of  the  period  you 
have  named,  I  may  in  my  turn  have  terras  to  impose 
upon  you." 

He  enclosed  at  the  same  time  a  cheque  for  a  consider 
able  amount  of  money.  Lill,  at  the  first  reading  fell 
flashed  with  victory. 


276  WHO   BREAKS — PAYS. 


CHAPTER    XLVII. 

La  Superba. 

Floods  of  bri.srlit  warm  lifflit  bathed  the  expanse  of 
Bky,  sea,  and  earth,  that  kiy  stretched  out  before  the 
open  windows  of  the  old  palace  of  Doria.  The  sun- 
beams danced  upon  the  blue  waters  of  the  wide  harbour, 
embraced,  as  it  were,  between  the  loving-  arms  of  the  old 
and  new  mole.  The  sea  arched  itself  beyond  to  meet 
the  firuuiment  in  a  far  horizon,  and  showed  on  its  broad 
breast  of  varied  blue  and  green  many  a  white  sail. 

A  vessel  coming  majestically  into  port  under  a  cloud 
of  canvas,  and  a  steamer  shooting  outwards,  crossed  on 
the  threshold  of  the  marine  gateway.  On  the  left,  far 
within  the  immense  basin,  tapered  the  masts  of  a  throng 
of  merchant  ships,  lying  at  anchor,  under  the  shelter  of 
the  town  and  quays.  Behind  and  around  the  shipping, 
up  an  amphitheatre  of  hills,  extend  the  many-coloured 
palaces  at  Genoa,  well  named  the  "  Sui)erba."  On  the 
most  eastern  eminence  is  the  dome  of  the  noble  Carig 
nano  chui-cli.  fhnikcd  (Ui  either  side  by  a  tower. 

Beyond  the  city  rise  the  peaks  ol  the  lofty  Apennines, 
each  crested  by  its  fort;  from  the  highest  point,  the 
summits  fall  in  a  graceful  gradation,  like  waves  suddenly 
crystallized  by  some  wizard  power.  At  the  extreme 
verge  of  the  view  to  the  left  juts  forth  the  bold,  pictur- 
esque headland  of  Porto  Fino.  blue  in  the  softening  dis- 
tance as  lapis-lazuli.  Opposite  to  the  town  rises  against 
the  western  sky  the  tall,  slender  column  of  the  Lanterna, 
or  light iiouse.  After  ranging  over  this  extensive,  bril- 
liant prt)spect,  the  eye  returns  with  ])leasure  to  reat 
upon  the  grove  of  dark  ilex-trees,  shading  part  of  the 
terrace  of  the  palace.  'J'his  terrace,  based  upon  a  rock, 
projects  in  front  of  the  building  into  the  sea.  It  is  the 
spot  wh(M-("  the  Doge  Andrea  Doria  spread  llie  ])rincely 
repast  he  oO'ered  to  the  Emperor  ('harles  the  Fifth. 

On  a  sunny  day  of  March,  184'.),  three  ladies  were 
walking  under  the  shade  of  the  iicx-lrees.  They  were 
Lill,  Signora  Marco  All)erti,  and  Mrs.  'i'ownsend.  Sor 
row  and  years  had  faded  the  faces  of  the  sisters ,  bu4 


LA    StrPERBA.  271 

f.ill,  wno  had  not  yet  attained  her  majority,  actually 
looked  aged.  Absence  from  those  they  love  ages  women 
quickly,  and  such  had  been  the  revolution  in  Lill's  being 
during  the  last  nine  months,  that  they  might  well  count 
as  a  lifftiiiie.  She  had  the  haggard  eyes  which  one  fixed 
thought  gives. 

'  VVhat  three  specimens  of  matrimony  we  are  !  Scare 
crows!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Townsend. 

"But  I  am  innocent,"  said  Signora  Alberli,  with 
frightful  egotism.  "I  have  done  uothiug  to  deserve  my 
troubles;  and  Marco  would.  I  verily  believe,  see  me  die 
of  grief  before  his  eyes,  rather  than  remain  behind  his 
regiment,  though  the  general  himself  told  him  he  was 
not  fit  for  active  service." 

'■And  you  complain  of  that  ?"  asked  Lill.  "  You  hav^ 
chosen  an  odd  subject  for  lamentation — your  husband's 
heroism." 

••That  sort  of  thing  is  charming  to  read  of,"  retorted 
tlic  Signora  Alborti ;  •'  but  when  a  wife  sees  her  husband 
insisting  on  joining  a  forlorn  hope— going  to  certain  de- 
feat, if  not  to  certain  death- — ah  !  but  a  very  few  years 
ago  we  were  so  comfortable,  no  one  thinking  about  these 
detestaljle  ideas  of  liberty." 

'  Only  heroes  lead  forlorn  hopes,"  answered  Lill. 

"Mamma!  mamma!"  shouted  two  children;  and  a 
couple  of  i)retty  little  boys  came  bounding  forward. 
Tliey  threw  themselves  on  the  ground  at  the  Signora 
Alberti's  feet,  speaking  as  much  witli  their  hands  as 
their  lips,  telling  her  that  "  papa  had  said  they  might 
go  to  the  cathedral  to  attend  the  first  service  of  the  Tri- 
duum  to  be  celebrated  in  behalf  of  the  Army,  if  she,  or 
their  aunt,  or  Scii  Lilla"  (the  name  by  which  Lill  went 
n  the  Alberti  family)  "would  take  them." 

The  armistice  called  Salasco  had  been  denounced  in 
the  first  week  of  March,  and  the  Piedniontcsc  and  Aus- 
trian armies  were  already  assembling  on  the  frontiers  of 
Lombardy  and  Piedmont.  It  is  only  justice  to  Genoa 
to  say  that  no  city  in  the  north  of  Italy  made  more 
costly  or  willing  sacrifices  than  she  did  towards  the  end 
of  ridding  the  country  of  foreign  dominion.  The  Genoese 
are  a  proud,  stiflf-necked,  distrustful,  rel:)ellious  people 
there  is.  indeed,  a  great  similarity  in   their  history  to 


278  WHO  BREAKS — PAYS. 

that  of  the  chosen  people  of  God,  as  described  in  the 
Old  Testament ;  and,  like  the  Jews,  the  Genoese  are 
undaunted  lovers  of  their  own  superb  city.  When  they 
claim  for  it  now  also  the  title  of  Italianissima,  they  do 
BO  with  a  good  right. 

The  Signora  Alberti.  like  all  persons  who  insist  on 
nursing  their  grievances,  never  accepted  any  means  of 
diverting  her  thoughts  from  dwelling  solely  on  self.  So 
now,  as  usual,  she  left  the  chance  of  her  children's  going 
to  the  cathedral  to  the  good-nature  of  her  sister  and 
Lady  Ponsonby. 

San  Lorenzo  is  a  considerable  distance  from  the  Pal- 
azzo Doria.  so  that,  in  spite  of  the  precaution  of  setting 
out  early,  the  regiments  to  be  present  at  the  mass  were 
turning  into  the  Piazza  Nuova  as  Mrs.  Townsend,  Lill, 
and  the  boy-s  were  entering  the  cathedral  doors.  A 
great  crowd  was  already  within,  principally  composed 
of  country  people — probably  the  families  of  the  soldiers. 

It  was  with  some  difiiculty  that  the  ladies  obtainc»d 
chairs;  the  little  Albertis  had  to  stand.  A  moment 
after  there  was  a  clank  and  ring  of  swords  and  spurs, 
and  thai  peculiar  mufQed  sound  wiiich  is  produced  by 
the  regular  tread  of  a  great  body  of  num.  'I'he  general, 
his  aides-de-camp,  and  the  field  officers,  accompanied  by 
the  well-known  deputy  BufTa,  with  the  intendente  of  the 
city  and  other  oflicials.  filled  the  chancel.  The  subal- 
tern officers  and  the  soldiers  were  in  double  lines  down 
the  nave  and  aisles. 

A  military  mass  is  always  an  imposing  ceremony;  in 
this  instance  it  was  both  exciting  and  lieart-rending. 
Who  could  help  feeling,  that  for  many  among  that  host 
of  vigorous  men.  animated  by  the  one  sentiment  which 
makes  war  a  virtue,  tliis  was  a  funeral  service  ? 

The  women  shed  their  tears  quietly;  once  only  during 
the  pidiie  or  sermon,  a  sob  iiitcrruplcd  llie  ])reaclier  auu 
made  him  pause.  His  words  hitherto  had  been  connnon- 
piace,  a  mere  string  of  popular  phrases;  now  he  turned 
his  face  in  the  direction  from  whence  had  arisen  that 
solitary  outcry  of  woe:  it  had  come  from  the  peasant 
woman  by  Lill's  side.  He  began  a  sentence,  meant  to 
convey  comfort  to  the  desolate,  broke  down,  and  was 
only  able  to  exclaim  over  and  over  again,  "  Italia!  0 
Italia  nostra!" 


LA    SUPERBA.  27S 

A  great  murmur,  like  that  of  a  wave  break^ag  on  the 
Bta  shore,  filled  the  cathedral :  it  was  the  offering  up  of 
one  prayer,  the  registering  of  one  vow,  to  break  the 
chains  of  Italy.  Mrs.  Townsend  with  surprise  saw  Lill 
suddenly  rise  from  her  chair  and  look  about  her,  as  if 
meditating  an  escape  from  the  group  which  encircled 
her. 

"  Are  you  ill  ?"  whispered  Honora. 

Lill  sat  down  again  without  speaking,  glanced  towards 
the  chancel,  then  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

When  they  were  again  in  the  street,  Lill  said,  ab- 
ruptly,— 

"  Honora.  Mr.  Giuliani  was  in  the  chancel ;  he  was 
next  to  Major  Alberti." 

"  Who  ?     0  heavens  !  pedagogus  ?" 
■  "  Don't  call  him  names  :  he  saw  me  too,  but  I  am  sure 
he  did  not  recognize  me  at  first.     Am  I  so  changed, 
Honora?"  As  she  asked  this  she  turned  her  face  to  her 
friend. 

,  Mrs.  Townsend  began  to  say  something  jokingly  about 
none  so  blind  as  those  that  won't  see  ;  she  ended  by  an 
earnest  "  Yes,  you  are  killing  yourself  by  your  obsti- 
nacy," so  suddenly  struck  was  she  by  the  change  in 
Lill's  appearance. 

It  does  often  happen  that  to  judge  of  what  is  daily  be- 
fore us.  we  require  to  look  at  it  through  unaccustomed 
eyes.  Mrs.  Townsend  now  perceived  for  the  first  time 
the  sad  alteration  that  had  prevented  Giuliani's  imme- 
diate recognition.  A  pang  of  fear  shot  through  her. 
Remorse  makes  no  account  of  time  or  place  ;  it  gives  its 
stab  anywhere.  In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  Mrs.  Town- 
send  was  thus  wounded.  She  felt  that  she  had  not  been 
a  wise  friend  to  Lill  in  the  late  crisis. 

"  I  hear  his  voice  now,"  exclaimed  Lill,  touching  Mrs. 
Townscnd's  arm. 

Giuliani,  with  some  other  officers,  was  coming  up 
quickly  behind  the  two  English  ladies.  As  the  gentle- 
men passed  they  all  lifted  their  hats.  Mrs.  Townsend 
fancied  (Jiuliani  had  hesitated,  as  though  he  had  thought 
of  speaking  to  her  and  Lady  Ponsonby,  but  he  went  on 
vith  the  others. 


280  WHO    BREAKS FATS. 

"  Mr.  Gmliaui  wrote  to  me  once  that  he  shouldn't  die 
even  if  1  refused  him,"  observed  Lill.  "  Did  you  heai 
how  strong  and  cheerful  his  voice  was?  He  is  not 
changed.     Men  don't  break  their  hearts  for  love." 

•'  The  tolerably  wise  among  them  don't  exhibit  the 
cracks  in  a  public  street,"  said  Mrs.  Townsend :  "  that's 
probably  why  Mr.  Giuliani  did  not  stop  to  speak  to 
you." 

"  I  behaved  ill  to  him — very ;  but  somehow  I  had  a 
faith  that  he  would  be  my  friend  in  any  case — he  was  so 
unlike  other  men  ;  I  always  acknov,iedged  that." 

Mrs.  Townsend  made  no  reply;  her  excitable  imagi- 
nation had  composed  a  whole  poem  while  Lill  was 
speaking.  What  a  grand,  heroic,  chivalrous  aot  it  would 
be  in  Mr.  Giuliani,  the  rejected  lover,  to  plead  the  cause 
of  the  beloved  rival  !  I'he  Italian  had  always  had  an 
extraordinary  influence  over  Lill;  indeed,  how  could  the 
most  obstinate  woman  resist  such  noble  self-devotion  1 
"She  stands  on  her  dignity  with  me,  poor  darling! 
Stupid  Die  !  not  to  have  guessed  she  was  pining  to  death^ 
to  be  forced  to  make  friends  with  that  young  goose  of  n 
husband  of  hers." 

Mr-5.  Townsend  lost  no  time  in  thinking  over  her 
scheme;  she  wrote  at  once  to  Mr.  Giuliani,  inmost  lucid 
phrases  explaining  what  she  hoped  and  expected  from 
him.  She  begged  also  that  his  visit  might  appear  un- 
prompted, made  by  his  own  wish. 

Giuliani  had  heard  Lill's  unhappy  story  from  Alicia, 
who,  during  Valentine's  long  and  nearly  hopeless  illness, 
had  supplied  her  mother's  place  as  his  correspondent. 
]ie  knew  that  she  had  received  in  obstinate  silence 
Lady  I'onsonby's  maternal  entreaties.  He  did  not  con- 
deuiu  the  young  wife  so  severely  as  did  his  other  friends; 
he  understood  the  almost  supernatural  trial  it  must  have 
been  to  her,  in  all  the  pride  of  her  youth,  beauty,  and 
love,  to  imagine  herself  accepted  as  a  sick  nurse  for  her 
husband's  wounded  heart.  Love,  he  knew,  would  not  bo 
satislied  with  less  than  love  in  return.  Hy  the  light  of 
his  own  l)urning  passion  he  had  seen  deeper  into  himself 
and  his  fellow-beings,  and  had  learned  what  to  hope  and 
what  to  despair  of  in  himself  and  others.  He  had  not 
recoven  d  happiness,  l)ut  he  felt  a  greater  fortitude  to 


LA    SUPERBA.  281 

bear  his  own  suffering,  and  a  new  power  of  sympathy 
with  which  to  help  others. 

In  this  belief  it  was  that  he  would  dare  to  obey  Mrs 
Townsend's  invitation,  which  had  reached  him  the  same 
afternoon  by  the  hands  of  Major  Marco  Alberti. 

Before  Mr.  Giuliani  pays  his  visit  to  ihe  Palace 
Doria,  it  will  be  well  to  understand  Lill's  frame  of  mind 
at  this  critical  juncture. 

During  these  many  months  of  self-imposed  exile  from 
Sir  Frederick,  Lill  had  endured  silently  an  ever-renewed, 
horrible  internal  combat ;  from  which  she  always  came 
forth  exhausted,  and  ever  undecided  as  to  her  husband's 
feelings  with  regard  to  her.  Her  rejoicing  at  having 
left  him  had  become  very  bitter  rejoicing.  So  young 
as  she  was,  was  she  to  live  to  the  end  of  her  life  with 
this  bleeding  heart  ?  She  opened  its  wounds  constantly 
and  with  predetermination ;  she  could  not  let  them 
heal. 

Hours  and  liours  of  every  day,  hours  and  hours  of 
every  night,  she  gave  to  recalling  Sir  Frederick's  words, 
his  silences  ;  to  picturing  to  herself  his  looks,  his  actions, 
every  scene  in  which  they  had  been  together  from  the 
day  of  their  first  meeting  to  that  of  their  parting.  Often 
she  would  seize  on  some  particular  expression  or  sen- 
tence as  on  a  prey,  rending  it  to  pieces,  and  always  find- 
ing in  it  the  poison  she  sought  for  with  such  curious 
avidity.  Or  she  would  recollect  the  omission  of  some 
trilling  attention  ;  perhaps  something  of  no  more  conse- 
quence than  a  yawn  in  a  le'e-cb-Ute  with  her,  and,  with 
wilful,  dexterous  sophistry',  persuade  herself  to  accept 
the  error  of  omission  or  commission  as  a  proof  of  in- 
dilference. 

There  were  other  even  more  painful  phases,  when  she 
had  an  agony  of  longing  to  see  him  again;  many  and 
many  a  time  had  she  exclaimed  aloud  in  the  solitude  of 
her  own  room,  "  I  am  forgetting  his  face  ;  1  don't  re- 
meml)er  him."  Then  she  would  liave  inli^rvals  of  doubt 
whether  she  had  judged  him  rightly  ;  doubts  that  racked 
her  more  cruelly  than  even  her  distrust  of  his  love. 
Oh  !  that  she  might  have  another  opportunity  of  testing 
liim.  z4 " 


282  WHO   BREAKS — PAYS. 

As  the  period  of  separation  she  had  demanded  was 
approaching  its  termination,  a  new  fear  gnawed  at  her 
heart.  What  would  he  do  ?  Wliat  might  be  the  terms 
which  he  had  hinted  the  probability  of  his  imposing  in 
his  turn  ?  Anything,  anything,  but  not  to  breathe  the 
same  air,  not  to  dwell  under  the  same  roof  with  him  ;  and 
yet,  while  feeling  this,  she  could  not  keep  her  thoughts 
from  glancing  continually  at  the  chance  of  a  denial. 
Her  woman's  pride  could  not  brook  the  possibility  of 
that  shame,  and  so  she  hardened  herself  to  await  her 
sentence  in  unbroken  silence. 

AVhat  wonder  that  this  miserable  state  of  excitement 
and  restlessness  undermined  Lill's  health  and  consumed 
her  beauty  1 


MASTER    AND    PUPIL.  283 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

Master  and  Pupil. 

The  suite  of  apartments  in  the  Palazzo  Doria  occupied 
by  the  Albertis  was  to  the  left  of  the  great  entrance  ; 
the  numerous  windows  of  their  spacious  dwelling-rooms 
all  had  a  view  of  the  bay.  When  Lill,  according  to  cus- 
tom, went  to  the  salon  after  dinner,  the  sisters  did  not 
accompany  her,  for  Mrs.  Townsend  had  determined  that 
the  meeting  she  had  arranged  between  master  and  pupil 
should  take  place  without  witnesses.  It  had  been  a  day 
of  hurry,  confusion,  and  lamentation,  for  Marco  Alberti 
was  to  start  that  same  night,  en  route  for  Novara  ;  there- 
fore, Lill  was  not  surprised  at  being  allowed  to  leave  the 
dining-room  alone. 

As  she  entered  the  salon,  a  gentleman  came  from  the 
embrasure  of  a  window  to  meet  her.  For  an  instant  Lili 
stood  motionless;  then  said,  in  the  unmodulated  voice 
that  had  l)ecome  usual  to  her, — 

"  Mr.  Giuliani !  this  is  being  kinder  than  I  expected. 
I  am  glad  to  see  you." 

He  said,  with  a  visible  effort, — 

"  You  have  been  ill." 

"Do  you  know  nothing  else  about  me ,  but  pray 

sit  down,"  and  she  repeated  again,  "  lam  glad  to  see  you." 

"Are  you?"  ho  asked,  mechanically,  not  with  any 
notion  of  questioning  the  reality  of  what  she  said,  but 
because  he  was  bewildered  by  being  near  her  again. 

"  Yes ;  the  first  unpainful  feeling  I  have  had  for  three 
quarters  of  a  year,  was  when  I  caught  sight  of  you  in 
San  Lorenzo.  Even  if  you  are  pleased  to  know  that  I 
am  unhappy,  I  am  still  glad  to  see  you  Mr.  Giuliani." 

One  must  have  heard  the  sweet  voice  that  has  been 
heavenly  music  to  one's  ears,  changed  to  a  hard,  cracked, 
toneless  sound,  to  understand  tjie  heartache  with  which 
Giuliani  listened  to  Lill.  Hitherto,  she  had  avoided 
looking  at  him ;  now  her  eyes  slowly  wandered  over  his 
face  as  he  sat  silent,  striving  to  collect  his  thoughts,  so 
as  to  find  the  right  words  to  speak  to  her ;  she  coa- 
tinned, — 


284  WHO    BREAKS — PAYS. 

"  What  an  odd,  unlikely  coincidence,  our  meeting  in 
the  cathedral,  with  the  dream  you  wrote  me  of.  Do  yoa 
remember  ?" 

He  nodded,  unable  to  talk  on  that  subject  with  calm* 
ness. 

"  You  are  altered  ;  I  did  not  think  so  at  first :  but  1 
have  chano^ed  most.  You  did  not  recognize  me  at  first." 
Giuliani  had  sought  Lill's  presence,  believing  his  heart 
wounds  healed  over ;  painful  throbs  told  him  now  the 
contrary.  His  tongue  was  at  fault ;  he  had  avowedly 
come  there  to  advise,  and  influence  her  to  be  reconciled 
to  her  husband  ;  but  he  felt  that  if  he  opened  his  lips 
just  then,  it  would  be  to  speak  words  he  was  as  bound 
not  to  utter,  as  she  not  to  hear.  Meagre,  worn,  sad,  she 
had  as  great  an  attraction  for  him  as  in  all  the  bright- 
ness of  her  beauty.  Envied,  triumphant,  surrounded  by 
homage,  or  neglected,  alone,  and  faded,  she  was  equally 
d'.'ar  to  him;  not  more  so  in  othe-  days — not  less  so  now. 
He  sat  on  wordless,  feeling  that  his  soul  was  like  a  ship 
between  Scylla  and  Charybrlis. 
Lill  could  not  bear  the  silence. 

"  How  are  your  Paris  friends,  Mr.  Giuliani  ?    Is  Val- 
entine better  ?   Of  course  I  ought  to  know,  but  I  do  not." 
*'  He  is  lamed  for  life,"  said  Giuliani. 
"  Poor  Valentine !  only  think  of  his  turning  out  a  hero ; 
and  Mrs.  Caledon,  is  she  as  lively  and  clever  as  ever?" 

How  the  assumption  of  that  gay  manner  jarred  with 
the  dejection  stamped  on  Lill's  countenance  and  figure. 
She  was  no  longer  poised,  erect,  giving  the  idea  of  a  bird 
ready  to  take  wing;  on  the  contrary,  her  head  was  bent 
forward  like  one  accustomed  to  carry  a  heavy  burden. 

Giuliani  roused  himself  from  his  first  stupefaction  of 
pain;  he  said, — "It  is  of  what  concerns  yourself  I  wish 
to  hear." 

"  Of  me  !  oh  !  dear,  I  don't  think  there  is  much  to  tell 
— nothing  extraordinary  :  disappointment  is  very  com- 
mon. However,  I  don't  wisli  you  to  have  a  worse  opinion 
of  me  than  i  deserve.  I  did  not  marry  for  money,  I  as- 
sure you  ;  it  was  'all  for  love  and  the  world  well  lost;'" 
she  gave  a  little  dry  laugh  as  she  added,  "at  least  on 
my  side." 
"  I  never  doubted  your  disinterestedness,"   he  said. 


MASTER    AND    PUPIL.  285 

with  infinite  pity ;  "  and  you  believe,  I  am  sure,  that  even 
in  my  most  selfish  moments  T  thought  of  your  happiness 
and  that  now  to  know  you  were  happy  would  give  me 

joy." 

For  an  instant  the  muscles  round  hor  mouth  quivered, 
then  they  resumed  their  rigidity,  and  she  said,  quietly, 
"I  cannot  believe  in  anything,  Mr.  (Giuliani." 

"So  you  refuse  even  my  friendship!"  He  tried  to 
speak  cheerfully,  but  his  real  sadness  showed  through 
the  attempted  disguise. 

"  How  good  you  are  to  me  !"  she  exclaimed,  and  laid 
a  hand  over  her  eyes. 

He  saw  first  one  tear,  then  another,  and  another,  fall 
on  her  black  silk  dress.  His  heart  quaked  ;  he  rose  and 
hurried  to  the  window.  The  sun  was  already  low  in  the 
cloudless  west ;  a  long  tremulo.is  line  of  fiery  gold  lay 
on  the  small  dancing  waves.  Oh  !  blessed  nature,  that 
never  refuses  encouragement,  if  men  would  only  opeu 
their  eyes  to  see,  their  ears  to  hear. 

He  had  touched  the  fountain  of  her  tears,  and  softened 
the  hardness  of  her  heart.  She  followed  him  to  the 
window,  saying, — 

"  I  do  believe  in  you  ;  it  was  not  true  what  I  said.  I 
am  so  unhappy ;  I  cannot  help  trying  to  hurt  others." 
Her  glistening  eyes  were  raised  to  his,  and  she  held  out 
her  hand  to  him. 

He  made  as  though  he  had  not  seen  the  offered  pledge 
of  amity,  but,  drawing  a  chair  forward,  said,—"  Come, 
let  us  reason  a  little  together:"  then  pointing  to  the 
luminous  line  on  the  sea,  he  added,  "  Can  j'ou  not  fancy 
that  to  be  a  golden  path  leading  from  this  world  to  one 
brighter  ?" 

"  You  are  very  good,  indulgent,  forbearing,"  she  said, 
answering  the  train  of  her  own  thoughts,  not  his  words. 

"You  will  not  bribe  me  not  to  speak  truths  to  you," 
he  said,  pretty  firmly. 

"  I  see  you  liave  heard  about  me,"  returned  Lill,  "pro- 
bably from  no  friendly  source :  hear  now  my  side  of  the 
story." 

He  guessed  the  comfort  it  would  be  to  her  to  have  a 
new  auditor  i'or  her  sorrows  ;  he  guessed  that  she  might 
have  found,  after  the  first  burst  of  sympathy  from  the 
kind  but  unstable  Mrs.  Townsend,  little  of  the  patienc« 


286  WHO  brt:aks—  pats. 

of  a  listener.     He  was  aware  also  of  the  egotistical  de 
mands  of  a  heart  new  to  suffering. 

Lill.  now  that  the  element  which  had  disturbed  her 
liking  for  the  Malian  was  absent,  once  more  drew  near 
to  him  with  faith  and  confidence.  She  told  him  her  tale 
with  entire  trust,  but  with  cruel  naivete.  She  did  not 
remark  his  frightful  pallor,  as  her  words,  revealing  such 
treasures  of  tenderness  for  another  man  met  his  ear. 
His  feelings  were  stirred  almost  beyond  his  control.  He 
suffered  at  one  and  the  same  moment  for  her  and  by  her. 
Rage  seized  his  heart,  and  held  him  by  the  throat,  keep- 
ing him  dumb. 

Lill  ended  :  "  There  are  some  illusions  Avhich  when  we 
once  lose,  the  light  of  life  goes  out.  Is  it  a  part  of  the 
primeval  curse,  Mr.  Giuliani,  that  affection  should  never 
be  mutual  ?"  She  looked  at  him  as  she  finished  speak- 
ing. The  expression  of  his  face  puzzled  her.  and  made 
her  add, — "  You,  too,  are  angry  with  me." 

He  struggled  to  recover  possession  of  himself,  and 
said,  in  a  voice  rough  with  emotion, — 

"  Angry  ?  no,  but  I  know  not  how  to  comfort  you.  I 
can  only  urge  you  to  obey  duty." 

"You  are  no  better  than  one  of  Job's  friends,"  she 
said,  disappointed,  then  added,  with  a  miserable  attempt 
at  sarcasm,—"  Why  don't  you  go  on  and  lell  mo  tliat  my 
suffering  is  deserved  ;  thaf  it  is  a  fair  retribution;  that 
I  deceived  you,  who  trusted  in  me,  and  now  it  is  my  turn 
to  be  deceived  and  betrayed;  that  I  should  boar  ray 
punishment  patiently  :  that  it  is  weak  to  complain  ?  All 
undeniably  true.  1  have  said  it  for  you.  Now  lot  us  talk 
of  something  else."  The  last  words  came  forth  in  little 
hard  S()1)S. 

(Jiuliaiii  turned  away  his  head,  that  she  might  not  see 
how  unmanned  he  was.     Prosoutly  he  said, — 

"  You  have  reminded  me  of  Job's  denunciation  againgt 
a  false  friend.  'He  that  spoakoth  fiattery  to  his  friends, 
even  the  eyes  of  his  children  shall  fail.'  I  must  fulfil 
my  dnty  as  a  friend,  tliouirh  truth  is  always  liard  to 
bear,  (iod  knows  how  willingly  1  would  spare  you  even 
•■  the  passing  pain  T  know  I  shall  now  give  you.  You  are 
but  twenty,  I  believe  :  su])])osing  that,  by  persistenee  in 
your  present  resolution  not  to  seek  to  bo  reconciled  to 


MASTER    AND    PUPIL.  287 

your  husband,  this  separation  should  become  a  lasting 
one,  how  do  you  mean  to  pass  the  next  ten  years  of 
your  youth  ?  You  have  not  probably  taken  that  into 
consideration  yet,  Lady  Ponsonby.  The  heart  does  not 
die  at  your  age,  and,  however  monstrous  and  impossible 
the  supposition  appears  to  you  now,  I  warn  you,  that 
you  will  inevitably  seek  compensation  for  your  sorrow." 

"Stop,  sir,"  she  exclaimed,  vehemently. 

"One  moment  bear  with  me,"  he  said.  "We  cannot 
concentrate  the  consequences  of  our  actions  in  one 
point;  we  cannot  say,  thus  far  shall  they  go  and  no 
farther.  You  are  so  young;  have  pity  on  yourself." 
There  were  tears  in  his  eyes.  "  It  is  not  Uod  who  will 
have  made  this  fate  for  you ;  you  will  have  made  it  for 
yourself,  because  you  have  not  known  how  to  discipline 
your  own  passions." 

"  I  am  not  a  mere  vulgar,  jealous  wife,  Mr.  Giuliani. 
I  can  forgive ;  I  do  forgive :  but  I  know  that  the  evil 
ander  which  I  bend  is  without  remedy  for  me ;  the  past 
cannot  be  undone  :  if  I  could  only  forget !  But  wherever 
T  turn  I  see  every  syllable  of  that  horrible  letter ;  de- 
ceived !  deceived  in  the  moment  of  greatest  trust !  Mr. 
Giuliani,  you  don't  know  the  words  he  spoke  to  me  the 
very  day,  almost  within  the  very,  hour  that  he  wrote  to 
her — how  could  he  have  the  heart?  Oh  !  never,  never 
to  believe  in  him  again ;    it  is  too  hard,  too  hard." 

The  scientific  physician,  the  keen-witted  barrister  lie 
in  wait  for  accidents  to  guide  them  in  delicate,  intricate 
cases.  What  science,  what  practised  penetration  does 
for  the  man  of  medicine  or  of  law,  love  did  for  Giuliani. 
Forgetful  of  self,  he  thought  only  of  how  to  reach  and 
counteract  the  poison  corroding  Lill's  heart.    He  said, — 

"  Look  at  me.  Lady  Ponsonby." 

She  turned  to  him  in  surprise. 
_  "Well,  you  recognize  in  me — do  you  not? — the  same 
signs  of  repressed  agitation — you  detect  in  me  the  same 
quivering  of  the  muscles,  the  weakness  of  the  flesh  when 
under  the  hot  ploughshare  of  agony — that  were  visible 
in  Sir  Frederick  Ponsonby  when  he  found  himself  so  un- 
expectedly in  Madame  do  Ravignan's  presence?" 

"No,"  she  faltered,  joining  her  hands  in  dawning 
hopeful  prayer,   or   in   intercession   to  be  spared  his 


288  WHO   BREAKS — PAYS. 

reproaches,  or  a  mingling  of  one  feeling  and  the 
other. 

"  You  perceive  a  difference  ;  now,  then,  you  can  under- 
stand that  selfishness,  pride,  revenge,  all  man's  base 
passions,  would  naturallyurge  me  to  influence  you  against 
Sir  Frederick  Ponsonby  ;  you  can  understand  how  much 
power  you  have  given  me,  by  complaining  of  him  ;  now, 
then,  will  you  refuse  to  credit  me,  when  I  protest  to  you. 
what  indeed  any  commonly  experienced  man  would 
laughingly  tell  you  was  as  evident  as  the  light  of  day, 
that  your  husband  once  had  a  caprice,  a  fancy,  for  this 
French  widow,  and  that  he  extricated  himself  from  this 
awkward  predicament  in  the  most  gentlemanly  manner 
he  could ;  that  is,  by  giving  her  the  honours  of  war  ? 
Deep  wounds  have  visible  scars,  believe  me.  Lady 
Ponsonby."  As  he  thus  tore  open  his  own  heart  to 
comfort  her,  he  saw  a  gleam  of  joy  light  up  her  eyes. 
She  had  no  thought  for  his  pain,  unless  as  aa  acceptable 
witness  in  her  husband's  favour. 

"  But  he  said  he  would  give  her  his  life,  but  not  his 
honour,"  she  objected. 

"Ay !  men  not  only  say  so,  but  they  do  give  their  lives, 
when  the  loss  of  honour  implies  anything  hut  the  giving 
up  a  woman  they  love  for  one  they  do  not.  Constancy, 
in  this  last  case,  is  a  very  rare  example  to  find  among 
men." 

"  You  would  not  deceive  me,"  she  said,  almost  coax- 
ingly. 

He  had  no  strength  left  for  further  argument,  but  yet 
enough  to  trample  out  the  last  spark  of  feeling  for  him- 
self; he  answered. — 

"Write  to  him.  recall  him.  say  come." 

"  But  will  he  ?  AVili  he  really  forgive  me?"  she  asked, 
in  a  tremulous,  eager  voice. 

She  would  not  then  spare  him  one  pang;  he  said, 
hastily, — 

"And  when  he  comes,  fall  on  his  neck — "  utterance 
faili'il  him. 

There  was  a  long  pause.  When  Lill  looked  again  at 
Giuliani,  he  was  gazing  intently  at  the  western  lu)rizoa 

"  Oh  !  you  are  good  !"  once  more  said  Lill. 

lie  bmiled  on  her,  and,  pointing  to  the  radiance  above 


MASTER   AND    PUPIL.  289 

the  sea  line,  quoted  to  her  these  words  :  " '  Man,  of  what 
dost  thoii  complain  ?  Of  struggle  ?  It  is  the  condition 
of  victory.  Of  injustice?  What  is  that  to  an  immortal 
being?  Of  death?  It  is  freedom.'  And  now,  Lady 
Ponsonby,  farewell !" 

'■  When  shall  I  see  you  again,  Mr.  Giuliani  ?" 

"  I  leave  to-night  for  Novara." 

"  I  forgot — oh  !  I  am  so  ungrateful — I  have  not  asked 
about  yourself." 

"  'JMiank  you,  there  is  little  to  say  on  that  subject.     I 
am  in  the  Piedmontese  service.     We  have  been  unfortu 
natc,  but  the  good  seed  is  sown  ;  it  will  yet  bear  a  rich 
harvest ;  I  am  content  in  that  belief,  though  perhaps  1 
may  not  see  the  reaping." 

lie  was  gone,  and  she  had  not  even  shaken  hands  witli 
him. 

He  left  her,  knowing  that  she  had  scarcely  a  glimmer- 
ing consciousness  of  the  hard  victory  he  had  won  over 
self  for  her  sake. 

Before  he  quitted  Genoa,  Giuliani  wrote  to  the  dow- 
ager Lady  Ponsonby ;  he  said  that  he  considered  there 
was  no  time  to  be  lost,  if  Lill's  life  was  to  be  saved.  He 
explained  that  her  emaciation  was  extreme,  while  her 
eyes  were  unspeakably  lustrous,  and  on  her  cheeks  were 
carmine  spots,  fatal  indications  of  internal  devouring 
fever.  Happiness  and  tranquillity  must  undo  the  work 
of  grief  and  agitation. 

Lill  obeyed  Giuliani's  advice  with  the  submission  of  a 
child.  She  wrote  to  her  husband,  "  Come  and  forgive 
me." 

These  two  letters  went  by  the  next  day's  mail  ;  but  it 
was  not  in  1849  as  it  is  now  :  there  were  then  no  rail- 
ways completed  between  Italy  and  Paris.  Moreover 
Sir  Frederick  was  in  England. 

25 


290  WHO    BREAKS — PATS. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

'  Pazienza  t 

After  the  departure  of  the  troops  in  Genoa  to  Novara, 
there  was  a  pause  of  all  external  demonstration  in  the 
city ;  it  seemed  to  settle  into  calm,  but  it  was  like  that 
hot,  seething  calm  which  precedes  a  physical  or  moral 
tempest. 

The  same  unnatural  tranquillity  was  visible  in  Lill. 
She  had  calculated  that  her  letter,  leaving  Genoa  on  the 
19th  of  March,  would  reach  Sir  Frederick  on  the  25th 
or  26th.  She  allowed  him  a  day  to  reply  to  it ;  she 
might  hear  from  him,  therefore,  as  soon  as  the  2nd  of 
April — might,  perhaps,  see  him.  "  Pazienza  !"  she  said, 
using  the  word  as  the  Italians  did  with  respect  to 
Austrian  rule ;  that  is,  to  indicate  a  never-dying  im 
patience. 

On  the  24th  of  March  this  strange  quiet  in  the  town 
disappeared.  No  one  knew  whence  the  rumours  of  dis- 
aster to  the  Piedmontese  army,  but  the  very  air  seemed 
alive  with  them.  Treachery,  defeat,  victory,  alternated 
on  pale,  quivering  lips;«and  yet  the  fact  was  patent, 
that  all  the  couriers  from  Turin  to  head-quarters  at 
Novara  had  been  intercepted,  and  obliged  to  return,  so 
that  all  communication  between  Charles  Albert  and  his 
capital  was  cut  oif. 

The  following  day's  alarm  and  perturbation  were  still 
more  general.  At  noon  on  the  27th,  the  news  of  the 
battle  and  defeat  of  Novara,  and  of  the  King's  abdica- 
tion, came  like  a  thunderclap.  The  Genoese  would  not 
swallow  this  bitter  cup,  wiliiout  giving  signs  of  life  ;  the 
words  said  to  have  been  uttered  by  diaries  Albert, 
"  All  is  lost ;  even  honour  1"  maddened  the  Ligurians. 

"  Not  so,"  said  they.  "  If  all  is  lost,  we  will  save  our 
honour ;  for  that  people  whicli  can  survive  infamy  is  no 
longer  a  people,  but  a  llock  of  slaves,  bearing  on  their 
brows  the  mark  of  God's  Curse." 

'I'liiit  very  evening  there  were  tumults  in  the  streets, 
and  the  rappel  was  beaten. 

It  was  not  till  the  31st  of  March  that  matters  assumed 


PAZIEUZA  !  291 

an  nnoomfoitable  aspect.  The  presence,  however,  of 
H.M.S.  Vengeance  in  tlie  bay  kept  tie  minds  of  the 
few  Englisl)  families  in  Genoa  at  rest. 

Madame  Alberti,  who  had  heard  of  her  husband's 
safety,  began  preparations  for  leaving;  \  it  Lill  declared 
she  would  not  stir  for  all  the  cannon  in  the  world  till  she 
had  received  her  letter.  Of  Giuliani  there  had  been  no 
news. 

On  the  1st  April,  a  Sunday,  Lill  and  Mrs.  Townsend, 
after  church,  took  a  wjtlk  on  the  bastions  of  Santa 
Oliiara,  and  so  into  the  heart  of  the  town.  The  walk 
was  lou^^  and  the  sun  hot.  Feeling  tired,  they  went  into 
the  little  church  of  the  Madonna  delle  Grazie  to  rest 
They  had  remarked  the  entire  absence  of  all  soldiers  or 
sentinels  on  the  ramparts,  and  that  the  cannon  were  left 
to  their  own  care.  Lill  had  just  said,  "  How  quiet 
everything  is  1"  when  suddenly  there  was  a  sound  or 
drums  and  shouts. 

The  two  ladies,  thougli  accustomed  to  street  demon- 
strations during  the  last  week,  thought  it  nevertheless 
wise  to  hasten  homewards.  They  met  a  few  men  vocife- 
rating loudly,  "Air  arini,  all'  armi!"  and  frightened 
women's  faces  looked  out  of  the  windows,  but  as  yet, 
though  they  saw  plenty  of  cause  for  hurry,  they  saw 
none  for  alarm.  Tliey  had  to  pass  the  Ducal  Palace ;  a.^ 
they  neared  it  the  scene  changed.  There  was  an  uproar 
and  a  ci-owd.  Masses  of  men  were  dragging  cannon, 
then  there  was  a  rushing  sound,  and  Lill  felt  herself 
caught  hold  of  and  pushed  back  into  a  little  wooden 
shed.  Slie  tried  to  see  what  was  going  on,  but  a  strong 
hand  turned  her  forcibly  away  from  the  street.  One  of 
those  horrible  popular  retributions  was  being  enacted. 
A  spy,  one  of  those  whose  trade  is  to  sell  blood,  had 
been  f()und,  and  was  saci-ificed  in  a  moment  of  mcb  fury. 

•'This  is  no  time  for  women  to  be  abroad,"  said  an 
English  voice.     "Ladies,  allow  me  to  take  you  home." 

The  person  speaking  was  in  the  British  naval  uniform, 
a  middle-aged  man.  Lill  glanced  at  him,  ami  then  ac- 
cepted his  olfered  arm,  Mrs.  Townsend  taking  the  other. 
Ilis  uniform  was  of  the  shabbiest;  but  they  both  in- 
ttinctively  recognized  in  him  a  man  of  their  own  rank. 

'*  What  is  going  to  happen  V  asked  Mrs.  Townsend. 


292  WHO    BREAKS — PATS. 

"  Nothing  less  than  treason  and  rebellion,  though  1 
oelieve  the  perpetrators  in  good  faith  will  consider 
themselves  the  new  King's  best  subjects." 

"  You  think  there  will  be  real,  downright  fighting  ?" 
said  Honora. 

"  Perhaps,  but  there's  the  big  ship  for  you.  I  dare 
say,  there  are  some  young  men  on  board  who  will 
willingly  give  you  np  their  quarters." 

"  I  am  not  afraid,"  said  Lill. 

The  officer  made  a  half-comic  grimace.  "  Not  the  first 
time  you  have  been  in  action,  I  suppose.  You  don't 
even  start  when  the  great  guns  bellow ;  so  much  the 
better.  You  know  the  Consul,  of  course.  Now.  my  ad- 
vice to  you  is.  if  he  abandons  the  town,  you  do  the  same. 
When  the  sight  of  his  gray  hat  no  longer  makes  these 
Zeneixi  fly  right  and  left,  you  come  away." 

He  left  them  at  the  door  of  the  jialazzo  with  a  good- 
natured  "  Don't  forget  my  advice  ;  above  all,  take  your 
measures  to  be  well  informed  about  the  gray  hat,  and 
keep  out  of  the  streets.'' 

"I  wonder  who  he  is  himself,"  said  PTonora.  "that  he 
makes  so  free  with  the  hats  of  dignitaries.  How  I  wish 
English  people  would  not  go  about  in  such  shabby 
clothes  when  they  are  on  the  Continent!" 

In  those  times  Genoa  had  no  letter  carriers.  On  the 
next  afternoon,  the  2nd  of  April,  Lill,  in  spite  of  the 
warning  advice  of  the  day  before,  unknown  to  Mrs. 
Townsend,  went  by  herself  to  the  post-office.  If  disap 
pointmcnt  awaited  her,  she  could  bear  it  best  by  herself. 
"  No  letter,"  was  the  answer  slie  received,  but  would  not 
believe ;  she  thrust  forward  her  passport  a  second  and 
even  a  third  time.  It  was  a  moment  when  incivility 
miglit  have  been  excused,  but  the  Italians  are  fundjv 
mentally  good-natured,  and  even  <lie  third  negative  was 
pronounced  without  acerbity. 

As  she  was  returning  to  the  palace,  she  met  in  the 
Rfnwla  Nuova  an  fpfficer  of  the  Piodmontesc  line,  blind- 
folded and  with  a  white  Hag  on  his  niuskel.  That  same 
afternoon  De  Asarta  Kurrcndcred  ;  Die  soldiers  were  all 
to  leave  Genoa  within  twenty-four  hours.  De  Asarta's 
family  were  to  remain  as  hostages  until  the  troops  were 
beyond  the  Apenniues. 


PAZIGNZA  !  29S 

The  reader  will  be  so  f^ood  as  to  bear  in  mind  that  the 
Genoese  were  not  in  rebellion  to  their  king,  but  believed 
themselves,  as  the  Easlish  captain  had  said,  to  be  acting 
for  Victor  Kmmanuer  against  '^i  party  who  were  selling 
the  country  to  the  Austrians.  Among  the  articles  of 
capitulation,  signed  between  De  Asarta,  the  commandant 
of  the  Sardinian  troops,  on  the  one  side,  and  Avezzana, 
the  general-in-chief  of  the  National  Guard,  on  the  other, 
was  this  one  :  "  Genoa  will  remain  unalterably  united  to 
Piedmont." 

The  siege  of  Genoa  belongs  to  history.  It  is  only 
mentioned  here  because  some  of  the  events  had  to  do 
with  Lill  Tufton's  story.  She  refused  attention  to  all  re- 
ports or  prophecies  of  danger ;  and  when  the  sound  of 
the  cannon  and  musketry  was  not  to  be  denied,  she  said 
"  that  she  was  as  safe  in  the  Palazzo  Doria  as  at  S.  Pier 
d'Arena  or  along  the  coast;  where,  according^^to  all  ae 
counts,  there  was  not  only  a  mad  populace,  but  a  mad 
army."  She  would  not  go  to  the  big  ship  ;  she  hated 
ships.     Her  remaining,  however,  was  no  rule  for  others. 

"At  present  1  feel  as  if  1  bore  a  charmed  life ;  I  have 
something  to  do.  I  can't  die  yet ;  besides,  you  know, 
Honora,  Planchette  bid  me  beware  of  water,  not  bullets." 

Mrs.  'J'ownscnd  was  quite  heroic  in  her  proofs  of 
friendsliip  to  Lill  at  this  period.  "1  am  glad  to  have 
the  opportunity  of  proving  to  myself  that  I  have  not 
wholly  relapsed  into  my  old  selfish  ways,"  she  said  once 
to  a  burst  of  Lill's  gratitude.  "  I  am  not  quite  cured 
though  ;  so,  as  soon  as  Alberti  can  stay  at  home,  I  shall 
be  off  to  the  Rue  des  Trois  Sabres,  for  another  dose  of 
goodness." 

Madame  Alberti,  who  was  dubious  as  to  what  she 
would  do,  stayed  also,  because  Lill  refused  to  move,  and 
Mrs.  Townsend  refused  to  leave  Lill.  Madame  Alberti 
took  great  credit  to  herself  afterwards  for  this,  when  she 
heard  that  the  English  who  had  gone  on  board  the  man- 
of-war  had  been  obliged  to  quit  when  the  ship  cleared 
for  action,  and  that  they  were  now  dispersed  in  the  small 
towns  of  Cornegliano  and  Scstri  di  Ponente. 

It  had  been  believed  that  La  Marmora  would  attack 
the  Porta  Pila,  at  the  opposite  extremity  of  the  town ; 
on  the  contrary,  he  appeared  before  the  gate  of  S.  Piei 


294  WHO    BREAKS PATS. 

d'Arena,  so  that  wliat  fighting  there  was  took  place  in 
extremely  disagreeable  proximity  to  the  Doria  Palace 
La  Marmora's  orders,  and  without  doubt  his  own  feelings 
also,  led  him  rather  to  menace  than  to  act  against  the 
deluded  city;  and  this  naturally  protracted  the  siege  for 
days. 

Lill  would  have  gone  again  to  the  post  ofBce  had  she 
not  been  assured  by  some  Genoese  friends  of  Madame 
Alberti  that  no  mails  had  arrived.  One  whole  day  the 
party  in  the  palace  passed  in  the  cellars,  another  crouch- 
ing in  a  space  between  the  roof  and  the  ceiling  of  the 
upper  suite  of  apartments.  At  last  came  the  news  of 
an  armistice  for  forty-eight  hours.  La  Marmora  was 
master  of  some  of  the  forts,  the  Begatto  and  the  Specola, 
and  a  deputation  of  citizens  had  gone  off  to  Turin.  Poor 
people  !  what  they  wanted  was  to  be  allowed  to  go  on 
fighting  the  Austrians  ;  one  of  the  terms  of  capitulation 
offered  was  the  immediate  recommencement  of  the  war. 
No  sooner  did  Lill  hear  of  the  truce  than  she  sprang  out 
liUe  a  greyhound  freed  from  a  leash ;  the  only  precaution 
she  took  was  to  wear  the  Genoese  mczzaro.  Foreigners 
are  never  safe  in  moments  of  popular  tumult,  and  of 
course  there  was  no  end  of  heaven-crying  injustice  in  the 
papers  against  English  interference.  Lill  stepped  over 
or  through  the  barricades  with  great  intrepidy,  or  rather 
indifference ;  at  last  she  came  to  one  guarded  by  a  woman 
with  a  musket  on  her  shoulder. 

"Determined  to  see  what  is  going  on,"  said  the  same 
strong  English  voice  Lill  had  heard  before.  It  was  the 
naval  captain. 

"  I  must  go  to  the  post  office,"  she  returned,  rather 
sharply. 

"  Luckily  our  road  lies  the  same  way ;  otherwise,  as 
you  are  unarmed,  the  pretty  sentinel  here  wouldn't  let 
you  })ass." 

In  fact,  the  girl  he  alluded  to  (she  was  quite  a  girl) 
was  presenting  her  musket  in  a  very  ferocious  manner 
at  the  English  gentleman  and  lady. 

The  cai)tain  said,  "  Nn'd  srusi"  (allow  me),  ])u1  by  the 
musket,  sprang  over  the  barricade  in  a  moment,  kissed 
the  astonished  sentinel,  and  saying,  "  Pretty  little  girls 


PAZIKNZA  !  295 

were  never  meant  for  such  sort  of  fighting,"  helped  Lih 
to  pass. 

By  this  time  he  had  come  to  see  that  his  companion 
was  in  no  state  of  mind  to  enjoy  joking ;  so  he  walked 
soberly  enough  by  her  side. 

"  Shall  I  inquire  for  your  letters  ?"  he  asked,  whea 
they  reached  the  post  ofiSce. 

She  gave  him  the  paper  on  which  her  name  was  writ- 
ten ;  he  remarked  how  her  hand  trembled. 

"  Good  luck,"  he  said,  with  a  sort  of  paternal  kind- 
ness, "  here  are  two  letters  for  you." 

When  she  saw  the  letter  addressed  to  her  in  her 
husband's  writing,  Lill's  knees  became  as  weak  as  water. 

"  Take  my  arm,  and  lean  well  on  me,"  said  the  captain. 
"  Read  your  letter ;  I  am  as  blind  as  a  bat." 

"  No ;  take  me  home  quickly,"  and  so  he  did,  and  not 
another  word  passed  between  them 


296  WHO    BREAKS — PATS 


CHAPTER   L. 

Who  Breaks  —  Pays. 

Locked  into  her  own  room,  Lill  opened  her  husband's 
letter.  "  Oh  !  I  cannot  see,  I  cannot  see,"  she  cried  in 
agony,  but  the  blindness  passed  away,  and  she  read, — 

"  Monk's  Capel  Priory,  March  27,  1849. 

"  I  SHALL  be  with  you  almost  as  soon  as  my  letter,  I 
go  by  Paris  to  Marseilles,  and  from  thence  by  steamer 
to  Genoa.  I  shall  thus  escape  all  risk  of  being  detained 
by  either  snow  on  Mont  Ccnis,  or  by  the  fifj-hting  of  which 
we  hear  rumours.  There  is  no  fear  of  a  French  steamer 
being  interfered  with,  and  I  know  through  my  mother 
that  the  Doria  Palace  can  be  reached  by  water.  O  Lill ! 
how  foolish  we  have  both  been.  Is  life  so  long  that  one 
can  aflord  to  squander  in  unhappiaess  so  many  months? 
Look  out  for  me,  my  love ;  let  me  see  you  as  I  pass, 
waving  me  a  welcome.  No  more  partings  on  this  side 
of  the  grave,  Lill ;  hand  in  hand  for  the  rest  of  our  lives, 
my  only  darling. 

"  Believe  me  now  and  always  your  own 

"Frederick." 

Down  on  her  knees.  Thank  God  !  thank  God  !  Then 
she  rushed  into  the  salon,  crying  out  "  Honora  I  Ilon- 
ora  !  Ruth  !     Where  is  Ruth?" 

^Irs.  Townsend  came  running  to  the  call. 

"He  is  coming,  Honora;  he  may  be  in  sight  now. 
AVherc  is  Ruth  ?" 

Mrs.  Townsend  asked  no  questions.  "Dear  Lill!" 
she  said,  and  would  have  embraced  her,  but  Lill  kept 
crying  out  for  Ruth. 

"llonoral  you  help  me  off  with  this  black  gown  ;  he 
would  not  like  to  see  me  in  black  to  welcome  him. 
Rulli,  find  my  blue  muslin,  the  one  your  master  was  so 
fond  of." 

While  Ruth  was  seeking  for  the  blue  dress,  Mrs. 
Townsend  took  up  the  second  letter,  lying  still  unopened. 
It  was  from  Miss  Crumptou,  and  Mrs.  Townsend  fancied 


WHO    BREAKS — PAYS. 


297 


it  might  tend  to  tranquillize  Lill  if  her  thouffhts  could  be 
diverted,  even  for  a  few  minutes,  from  dwelling  on  Sir 
Frederick's  arrival.  She  therefore  said,  "  Perhaps  there 
is  some  news  here,  Lill." 

"  Open  it,  and  tell  me  what  there  is  in  it.  Honora 
dear,  I  have  such  a  strange  sensation.  My  knees  are  as 
weak  as  water." 

"  Do  sit  down  like  a  darling,  till  Ruth  is  ready  for  you. 
Listen  to  your  dear  Crummie." 

"  Waverinf?  Hall, 
March  29,  1849. 

"  Dearest  Lill, 

"  We  are  wearying  for  news  of  you.  The  notion  that 
you  may  be  still  in  Genoa  among  those  bloodthirsty 
Italians  is  dreadful.  Surely  Mrs.  Townsend  ought  to 
have  sense  enough  to  perceive  that  Italy  is  not  a  place 
for  English  women  at  this  time.  I  never  did  approve 
of  your  intimacy  with  that  lady;  she  always  led  you 
wrong." 

"  Much  obliged  to  you,  dear  Miss  Orumpton,"  here 
ejaculated  Mrs.  Townsend.     "Are  you  listening,  Lill?" 

"  Yes  !  oh,  yes  !" 

Mrs.  Townsend  went  on  reading — "  Sir  Mark  is  grow- 
ing old ;  dear  Lill,  what  do  you  think  he  asked  me  the 
other  day?  Why,  there  was  no  picture  of  you  at  the 
Hall,  and  he  said  it  was  my  fault  for  not  reminding  him 
to  have  a  likeness  taken  of  you.  The  spring  is  cold  and 
backward,  not  at  all  like  what  I  remember.  Everything 
seems  changing  for  the  worse.  Some  one  —  Colonel 
Panton  I  think  —  was  saying  the  other  day.  that  it  was 
because  of  some  derangement  of  the  earth's  orbit;  it 
maybe  that,  or  just  as  likely  something  else, — I  am  sure 
I  can't  pretend  to  say.  You  scold  me  for  not  giving  you 
any  news,  but  there  is  none  to  give. 

"  Lill,  my  dear  girl,  do  not  be  angry  if  I  tell  you  one 
thing;  I  have  kept  it  on  my  muid  till  my  conscience 
won't  bear  it  any  longer :  Sir  Frederick  is  not  living  as 
he  ought  to  do ;  he  sent  away  all  the  workpeoi)]e  from 
the  Priory  when  he  came  back,  and  there  he  is  with 
scarcely  any  sashes  in  the  windows  :  the  wind  may  blow 
in  just  as  it  likes;  and  he  has  only  old  Betty  Pagan  to 


298 


WHO   BREAKS — PATS. 


wait  on  him,  and  a  man  for  his  horse.  I  hear  he  sits  in 
his  wet  clothes  when  he  comes  in  from  hunting,  and 
never  knows  whether  there  will  be  a  dinner  for  him  or 
not.  0  my  dear  child  !  think  before  it's  too  late,  and 
pray  forgive  me  for  telling  you  what  is  disagreeable. 

"  Sir  Mark  does  not  say  anything,  but  somehow  he  is 
not  so  tantalizing  as  he  was ;  he  asks  often  if  there's 
been  any  letter  from  Genoa.  That  little  dowdy,  Althe- 
miah,  is  going  to  be  married  to  Lord  Durrington's  eldest 
son.     What  he  sees  in  her,  /  don't  know. 

*  With  my  warm  love  and  blessing, 

"  Your  faithful  friend, 

"  M.  Orumpton." 

"Don't  cry,  Lill,"  said  Mrs.  Townsend  ;  "happy  days 
are  in  sight  for  you." 

"  He  did  love  me,"  whispered  Lill ;  "  I  will  be  so 
good,  Honora.  I  will  never  doubt,  I  will  try  never  to 
pain  any  one  again.  How  many  friends  I  have,  and  1 
have  never  deserved  one  !" 

"All  right  now,  dear  girl,  so  dry  your  eyes  and  smile." 

Ruth  here  brought  in  the  blue  muslin  dress.  Lill's 
fingers  trembled  so,  that  she  could  not  fasten  the  but- 
tons.    "  It  hangs  like  a  bag  on  me,"  she  exclaimed. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Mrs.  'J'ownscnd;  "  It  looks  charm- 
ing, and  you  are  like  a  violet  wet  with  dew." 

"  What  a  comfort  this  armistice  is !"  observed  Lill ; 
for  now  I  can  go  and  find  out  when  the  French  steamer 
is  expected." 

"Stefano  the  cook  had  suddenly  reappeared,"  said 
Mrs.  Townsend;  "we  can  send  him  to  IJanchi.  You 
must  not  leave  the  house ;  there  is  no  saying  who  might 
arrive  in  the  meantime." 

"  The  steamer  from  Marseilles  was  due  that  day,  but 
might  not  arrive  before  night,"  was  the  information 
brought  liack  by  Stefano.  Lill,  as  may  be  supposed, 
was  pitiably  restless.  It  was  so  evidently  painful  to  her 
to  be  forced  to  speak,  that  at  lust  Mrs.  Townsend  gave 
np  her  well-meant  elforts  to  distract  her  attention  from 
the  one  subject,  and  hrft  her  free  to  wander  from  window 
to  window.  Looking  at  the  ])iirt  tlirongh  a  small  telc- 
Bcopc,  and  examining  her  watch,  were  the  alteruationa 


WHO    BREAKS PAYS. 


299 


in  which  Lill  passed  hours.  She  could  not  be  induced 
to  sit  down  to  dinner ;  she  was  sure  the  steamer  would 
pass  exactly  then,  and  she  should  never  forgive  herself 
if  she  were  out  of  the  way.  They  must  send  her  a  crust 
of  bread  and  a  glass  of  wine. 

Half  an  hour  after,  when  Signora  Alberti  and  Mrs. 
Townsend  returned  to  the  salon,  Lill  was  not  there ;  the 
sisters  took  it  for  granted  that  she  had  gone  to  her  own 
room. 

Just  afterwards  there  was  a  tap  at  the  door,  and  with 
a  "  Con  licenza,"  Mr.  Giuliani  came  in. 

"  You  know,"  said  Mrs.  Townsend.  hurrying  to  him, 
"  that  Sir  Frederick  Ponsonby  is  expected  to-day  by  the 
French  steamer." 

"I  came  with  the  news  in  case  it  might  not  havo 
reached  you"  he  replied. .  "  I  had  a  letter  from  his 
mother  two  days  ago."  Giuliani  sat  down  like  one 
thoroughly  wearied  with  long  watching.  "  I  am  just 
from  Turin,"  he  added. 

"Sad  times,"  said  Mrs.  Townsend,  struck  by  his  worn 
appearance  His  lips  moved,  but  she  distinguished  no 
words. 

The  sharp  report  of  a  rifle,  sounding  quite  close  to  the 
windows,  made  the  two  ladies  start,  the  Signora  Alberti 
exclaiming,  "  Oh  dear,  those  weary  guns.  I  don't  think 
these  Genoese  understand  the  meaning  of  the  word 
truce." 

"  Men  discharging  their  muskets  probably,"  said 
Giuliani,  Here  little  Lorenzo  Alberti  came  into  the 
room ;  he  sidled  up  to  his  mother,  looking  frightened. 

"  Mamma,  mamma,  come  to  Sci^  Lilla ;  come,  she 
won't  speak." 

"  Good-heavens  !"  cried  the  mother,  "  what  is  the  mat- 
ter? You  have  hurt  yourself,  Renzo.  Look  at  the 
child's  frock." 

"  It's  blood,  it's  blood,"  shrieked  the  boy,  in  horror  of 
the  red  spots  he  now  saw.     "  Sci^  Lilla  !  Scik  Lilla  1" 

"Where  is  Sci4  Lilla?"  asked  Mrs.  Townsend, 
hurriedly. 

"  On  the  terrace  ; — oh,  my  frock  1" 
There  was  something  infectious  in  the  little  fellow's 
distress  and  terror.     Giuliani,   closely  followed  by  Mrs. 


300  WHO   BREAKS — PATS. 

Townsend,  ran  out  into  the  court,  beyond  which  is  tht 

ilex-shaded  terrace  jutting  into  the  sea.  There  they  saw 
Lill  lying,  face  downwards,  on  the  ground,  her  head  in 
the  direction  of  the  entrance  of  the  port. 

"  She  has  fainted  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Townsend. 

Giuliani  knelt  down;  he  touched  Lill's  hand,  gently 
raised  her  head ;  he  looked  up  at  Mrs.  Townsend. 

"  Well  ?"  she  cried  sharply. 

"She  is  dead,"  he  said. 

"  Impossible  !  nonsense  !"  burst  out  Mrs.  Townsen-d. 
"She  was  well  half  an  hour  ago.     She  has  fainted." 

Giuliani  pointed  to  a  small  red  circle  on  the  bosom  of 
the  blue  dress.  "She  has  been  shot;  God  help  her  I" 
He  tried  to  lift  up  the  prostrate  body ;  that  slim  form 
weighed  like  a  heavy  load  of  lead.  "  I  cannot  do  it," 
he  muttered,  and  the  sweat-drops  fell  from  his  forehead. 

Plenty  of  help — half  a  dozen  surgeons  were  soon  on 
the  spot.  They  were  useless — Lill  Tufton's  spirit  had 
fled  from  this  world. 


Some  hours  after — it  was  dark  by  that  time — Mrs. 
Townsend,  a  candle  in  her  hand,  came  into  the  salon 
where  Giuliani  was  waiting  for  her.  She  found  him  in 
the  recess  of  the  same  window  where  he  and  Lill  had  sat 
together  during  their  last  interview.  He  had  not  missed 
the  light  from  the  sky.  so  full  of  ex]iectation  was  he;  all 
was  not  at  an  end  yet  for  him.  Mrs.  Townsend  beckoned 
to  hira  ;  he  rose  and  went  to  her. 

"  You  can  go  in  now,"  she  said,  pointing  to  a  door. 

"  Alone,  if  yo>i  ])louse." 

She  bowed  and  left  him. 

He  went  calmly  enough  up  to  the  side  of  the  bed,  on 
which  lay  the  remains  of  t  lie  woman  he  had  so  trulj 
loved. 

Could  anything  so  lovely  be  death  ? 

A  smile  of  hope  was  on  the  sweet  white  face. 

Kvery  trace  of  the  care  and  grief  that  had  so  changed 
licr  when  he  last  saw  lier.  had  vanished.  She  looked 
yonnger  than  he  had  ever  known  her.  lie  stooped  down 
to  press  a  kiss  on  those  exquisite  li]is. 

"Lill!"  he  ejaculated;  it  was  the  first  time  he  had 


WHO    BREAKS — rAYS.  301 

thus  named  her — "  Lill !  yon  Vould  say  No,  if  you  could 
Bpcak  ;  I  will  not  rob  you  now." 

lie  drew  forward  a  chair  and  sat  down  by  the  body. 
Those  who  have  kept  a  similar  vigil  know  how  faithfully 
memory  paints  in  such  moments.  Every  scene  in 
which  he  and  Lill  had  met,  every  word,  every  look  of 
hers,  came  livingly  back  to  Giuliani.  There  she  was 
again  before  him  in  all  the  grace  of  her  piquant  beauty 
playfully  defying  Sir  Mark.  That  picture  dissolved  into 
another,  in  which  she  appeared  first  as  the  pretty  petu- 
lant pupil,  soon  subdued  to  gentleness  by  his  repellent 
coldness — a  coldness  only  skin  deep,  God  knows.  If 
any  had  been  by  to  mark  him,  they  would  have  seen  hira 
sometimes  smile,  so  lifelike  were  the  visions  passing  be- 
fore him.  Once,  he  fancied  she  called  him  "  Mr. 
Giuliani." 

He  started  to  his  feet ;  it  surely  was  not  possible  that 
he  had  only  recollected  the  sound  of  her  voice  speaking 
his  name. 

He  had  not  yet  drained  the  bitter  cup  to  the  lees.  He 
had  done  for  the  best ;  but  why  had  he,  a  man  marked 
down  by  calamity,  tried  twice  to  influence  the  fate  of 
that  bright  creature  ?  If — 

What  worlds  of  agony  that  little  word  can  hold — ah  ! 

it  was  a  pitiful  case. 

***  ******* 

At  midnight  there  wus  a  great  stir  in  the  Palazzo 
Doria  ;  Sir  Frederick  Ponsonby  had  arrived. 

"  Who  was  to  tell  him  what  had  happened  ?" 

"  Not  I,  not  I,"  cried  Mrs.  Townsend,  wringing  her 
hands. 

Mercifully,  Sir  Frederick  knew  his  misfortune.  He 
had  heard  of  it  before  leaving  the  steamer  from  some 
custom-house  officers,  who,  in  ignorance  of  his  interest 
in  the  tragical  occurrence — already  become  town  talk — 
had  related  every  detail  in  his  presence. 

Once  again  Mrs.  Townsend  was  a  guide  to  the 
Chamber  of  Death. 

Giuliani  was  still  seated  by  the  bed,  his  look  riveted 
to  Lill's  face.  He  was  violently  moved  when  Sir  Fred- 
erick went  in  ;  Mrs.  Townsend  saw  his  eyes  lighten  with 
passion  ;  then  he  turned  to  take  one  more  glance  of 


302  WHO    BREAKS — PAYS. 

those  beloved  features ;  subdued,  he  bowed  to  Sh 
Frederick,  quietly  left  the  room,  and  iuimediately  after 
the  house.  Of  him  none  of  his  former  friends  know 
aught,  save  that  he  went  to  Rome,  one  of  Manara's 
deathless  band. 

Lill  lies  buried  in  the  Protestant  Cemetery  of  San 
Benigno. 

It  was  never  ascertained  with  any  certainty  how  she 
met  her  death;  it  was  supposed  she  had  slipped  out  to 
watch  for  the  French  steamer,  and  been  hit  by  mere 
accident.  In  all  probability,  the  sharp  report  which  by 
its  proximity  had  so  startled  the  Signora  Alberti,  had 
sounded  poor  Lill's  knell.  The  surgeons  one  and  all 
agreed  that  her  death  had  been  too  instantaneous  for 
pain  of  bod\'  or  mind. 

"  She  was  so  happy,  so  very  happy,  the  whole  of  that 
day,"  was  all  the  comfort  Mrs.  Townsend  could  think  of 
for  the  wretched  husband  ; — "  she  will  never  know  grief 
again ;  she  is  safe  in  the  Land  of  Promise?" 


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